A Change of Heart
by Maya Michelles
Summary: Haytham realizes, almost too late, that he doesn't want his son dead. He convinces Connor to team up with him, and though their relationship is strained, at the end of the day they can't bring themselves to kill the other.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey guys! Here's the first chapter of a story I've been working on. Let me know what you think!**

 **Haytham POV**

I lean back in my chair and sigh, looking at my journal entry for the day. It had been a long one, for sure. I'm simply glad it's over. I close my weary eyes, letting the ink dry in my journal. Nothing sounds better than a warm cup of tea after a relaxing bath.

But I suppose it is not to be so. The front door just opened and closed. It is loud enough that I know it isn't someone sneaking in. In fact, I recognize the footsteps coming this way. They belong to the one man who enters my house without knocking: Charles Lee.

Sure enough, I also recognize his stressed breathing just outside my door. He knows I'm in here, so why doesn't he knock? Is he trying to will the courage to come in here, most likely with more bad news? Ever since the rumors of a new Assassin began, that was always the type of news he brought. But, as of yet, they're just rumors.

"You may enter, Charles," I say, growing tired of him waiting. I sit up straight in my chair and face him as he enters.

"Sir, good evening," he says. He looks as tired as I feel.

"By the look on your face, it isn't one. What seems to be the trouble?"

"Well, I do have some bad news. However, I also have some good."

"Oh? What is it?"

"First, the bad. Hickey was arrested today in New York." I sit up a little straighter, the closest thing to alarm Charles will see.

"On what charges?"

"Counterfeit."

"Damn, I told him to be more careful. I dislike the practice as is, but if he insists the least he could do is not get caught. Anyway, you said there's good news?"

"The Assassin was arrested as well."

"And how do you know it was an Assassin?"

"Besides the attire, he was chasing down Thomas with murder in his eyes. Plus he fits the description of the rumors."

"So he does exist. That's only good news because he has been caught. What did they get him on?"

"Get this, they actually thought he was with Thomas." I just scoff.

"Even _he_ is above that." I'll admit, I have been pretty sure he existed for some time. The Assassin has been known to hold fast to his principles, and to be honest he is as upright as they come. I could use a man of his conviction and skill.

"What should we do, sir?"

"Well, I suppose we ride for New York and see what we can do about Thomas. The Assassin will not be going anywhere, so I'll think on that."

We have arrived in New York. Charles and I have already pulled some strings, though I had hoped for better. Thomas's stunt will be hard to erase, but for the time being this will do.

Charles and I enter the holding cells. There seem to be a few other people within, perhaps this is where they keep prisoners while processing them. There's a native boy, maybe about seventeen or eighteen, next to him. Thomas looks like he's been pestering the poor boy.

"Thing is, I believe I just been pardoned," Thomas says as he notices Charles and me. The guard escorting us opens the door. "Thanks for the rescue, gents."

"There can be no further mistakes, Thomas. Am I understood?" I say, hoping he can tell from my voice how upset I am. I turn to leave.

"What about the Assassin?" Thomas asks. I look at him questioningly over my shoulder, and he gestures to the native boy he was harassing.

" _This_ is him?" I'm in disbelief. A child has been tearing us apart? Perhaps I've allowed too much slack.

"That's right, they put him in a cell right next to mine. How convenient, eh?"

I look the boy over, suppressing a sigh. As I had worried, he is my offspring. I wonder if he knows. I wonder... does his mother know he leads this life? Surely not, she wouldn't allow this. He's still a boy. I almost feel bad, here I am plotting the murder of not only a teenage boy, but my own son. Is this really who I've become?

"Sir, what is it?" Charles asks, breaking me from my thoughts.

"Nothing. He's just so...young. I didn't expect that."

"Not too young to stop you," he says with determination. Yet I almost want to laugh. Here he is, completely defenseless in a prison, making threats? But no, I should not take him lightly. He means business and has taken down both Pitcairn and Johnson. I need to not underestimate him.

"We shall see, won't we boy?" I say with a smirk. From the look he's giving me, I'm sure he knows I'm his father. But I'm sure he also plans to bring me to my demise, and I must put an end to him before he can. "Besides, you'll be too dead soon to do anything. I thought I'd get a look at the boy who's been a thorn in my side before we put an end to you," I add.

"Last I checked, this is no zoo." I smirk at him.

"But that's where you belong, you bloody animal," Charles says.

"Charles, pay his comments no mind. And, mind your own, shall you?" I say, then turn to leave.

"You forget, Charlie, boss man is an injun lover," Thomas says. He must think I can't hear him.

"I said enough, Thomas." I can imagine the look on his face, shocked and maybe embarrassed. But I don't bother turning, and instead exit. Charles can handle things from here.

A couple days have passed since Thomas was locked up. I've been working hard, pulling as many strings as possible, trying to get him out. I'm just lucky word of his plans to kill Washington hasn't spread. If it had, this would be impossible.

I sigh, knowing that I must have done so thousands of times since I came here to New York. I sit back in my chair, trying to relax here in my quarters at Fort George.

Charles just brought me the news. Apparently, both Thomas and the Assassin, Connor, decided to break out last night. I believe Connor intended to kill Thomas, but instead walked into a trap. Thomas killed the warden, and he and Charles framed Connor for it.

"No trial for traitors. He was plotting to kill the commander after all, and killed the warden trying to get out. See to it that he's hung. Tomorrow," I had said when Charles finished the tale. He nodded and left me here alone to think.

I plan to go to the hanging. Not because I wish to see it, because I don't. Since I confirmed my beliefs about him being my son, I have had an uneasy feeling about this. I used to want a family, hoping that one day my life would be peaceful enough to achieve that. But since Ziio, I gave up on that. Still… seeing my son sparked that within me.

However, I'm going to go and see to it that it goes smooth. I can't let my curiosity get the better of me. I owe it to the Order to finish him. But more than that, I know that Thomas's life may be on the line. I need him now more than ever.

I look out the window and frown. I can already see the sun begin to rise. I must have been thinking about this all night, though to be fair I'm sure it was quite late when Charles delivered the news. I'm getting too old for this life.

I sigh once more before changing my clothes. I mostly wear one outfit when on Templar duties, but today I must wear something more mundane. I would like to blend in with the crowd today anyway, even from Charles and Thomas. I feel like I'll need to.

As I arrive at the location, I can't help but notice the ever-growing crowd. It truly sickens me how people come to see these things like it's a sport. Death is no joke, it is cruel and terrible. Even I, an artist of death, still am bothered by it sometimes. Today is definitely one of those.

I see the prisoner wagon approaching, and it comes to a stop a distance away. The guards have already cleared a path from the wagon and the gallows. My son should be safe from any people trying to harm him along the way.

Finally, the door opens. Connor is thrown out, and lands face first into a puddle. Hickey was quick to be there, picking him up and taunting him. I pity him, I do. He's so young, he hasn't lived his life yet. If only I could have gotten to him, he could be saved. Saved from his foolish ways and brought over.

He looks around, and I'm surprised to see both shock and fear in his eyes. From here, I see him turn to Hickey, and by reading his lips I can see him saying something about a trial. For the love of God, did no one tell him this was happening? That's why he looked so scared, he thought he was going to a trial. My poor son.

After a few moments, Thomas shoved Connor down the path. He's not resisting, but instead is walking boldly toward the gallows. Such confidence for a man— no, a boy— about to die. He isn't flinching at the harsh words and the objects thrown his way. I feel my heart rate increase. I realize that I'm beginning to get nervous, though I can't pinpoint why.

A woman breaks from the crowd and punched Connor, knocking him to his knees. Without thinking I move toward them, with more anger within me than I've felt in a long time. It only grows as she spits on him.

I nearly reached them when a figure that was both familiar and much older than I remembered, stepped from the crowd as well. He gently pushed the woman back from Connor, then bent down to talk to him. Is Achilles saying his last goodbyes? Is he offering words of hope, or maybe comfort? I doubt that very much.

As I look around, I see I'm right. Someone on the rooftop stabbed a guard before moving into position. He's readying his bow and arrow. I feel relief wash over me, but then curse at myself. That's a bad thing.

I must have been looking at the Assassin for some time, because when I returned my focus to the gallows, Connor is standing up there with the bag on his head. Charles is finishing up his speech.

I watch the ground beneath Connor disappear, and he only struggles for a couple moments before an eagle cries from somewhere up above. As response the Assassin on the rooftop releases the arrow. I hold my breath as it hits the rope, but it doesn't quite cut it. With panic in his eyes, the Assassin is pulling out another arrow. But he will miss, he is too shaky. I look at my son, seeing his struggling slow. I feel panic rise within me. No, not panic, that's too mild. I feel utter terror.

I only just realize what I'm doing as the knife left my hand. I release a breath I didn't know I was holding as the rope cuts. Connor is safe. _My son_ is safe. However, the angry crowd around me says that this is my cue to leave. I only catch a glimpse of Connor leaping into the sky, tomahawk in hand, before I must leave the scene.


	2. Chapter 2

**Here's chapter two! Hope you guys enjoy!**

 **Connor POV**

I ride up to this abandoned building. It sort of reminds me of a church, which is ironic considering that I'm searching for Benjamin Church. I take my horse to the tree line by the building. Right where I need her if I must quickly leave. I stroke her neck and feed her a piece of apple before loosely tying her to a branch. Then I enter the building.

Empty. Completely empty. So much for this lead. I take one more look around the one room building, trying to see if I missed anything. But it's still empty. I sigh and turn to go. However, I don't notice my attacker until he is already upon me.

"Father," I say, looking Haytham Kenway dead in his blue eyes.

"Connor, any last words?" He asks. My mind draws a blank.

"Wait," I say finally, curious to see his reaction. If he wanted it, I'm sure I would be dead already.

"A poor choice." He adjusts his weight ever so slightly, just enough for me to shove him off. He charges at me once more, but I shove him away with my feet. I get up quickly and extend my hidden blade. Now we're even.

"Have you come here to check up on Church? Make sure he's stolen enough supplies for your British brothers?" I demand.

"Benjamin Church is no brother of mine. No more than the redcoats or their idiot king." Am I supposed to believe this?

"Oh, he's not, is he?"

"Of course not. I expected naïveté, but this? Listen, the Templars do not fight for the crown. I seek the same as you, boy. Freedom. Justice. Independence."

"But..." I begin. I know he's lying, but now that I'm here, confronting him, what do I even say?

"Hm? But what?"

"Johnson. Pitcairn. Hickey. They sought to steal land, to sack towns. To murder George Washington. That doesn't sound like freedom or justice to me." Father just sighs. I hate how he acts like I'm some incompetent child, though to be fair I'm sure that's exactly what I am in his eyes.

"Johnson sought to own land, that he might keep it and the people on it safe. Pitcairn aimed to encourage diplomacy, which might I mention you single handedly cocked up enough to start a war! And Hickey..." Father's voice trails off.

"Yes? How do you excuse him?"

"George Washington is a wretched leader. The man is so uncertain and insecure that he could topple the entire war effort with that alone. Only look at Valley Forge to know my words are true. We're better off without him."

"If you truly seek to aid the patriots, then you should have considered what his death would bring. It would cause unrest in the soldiers. Even more so within the other leaders. It would put a doubt in everyone's mind. Not to mention he is an innocent." Father and I look at each other, unmoving. I see some serious thinking going on and wonder what he might be thinking about.

"Look, as much as I would love to argue with you all day, we have bigger things at hand."

"Oh?" He straightens his posture, moving from a defensive stance to a more business like one. He did that on purpose, knowing I would notice.

"Benjamin Church has betrayed the Templar order. He's stealing supplies to sell for personal gain. Not to mention the fact that he has a rather big mouth, if not a larger ego. You clearly want the supplies he's stolen. I want him punished. That means our interests align."

"What exactly are you proposing?"

"A truce. Perhaps some time together might do us a bit of good. Besides, you are my son, that's enough for me to want to save you from your ignorance." I can't really think of any words to say, I'm too baffled. Why does he want to do this? Does he think he will turn me to the Templars? Or is it some plot to have me killed?

"What if I refuse?"

"Well, that's not the way I'd like this to go, but... I very well could kill you now, if that's what you prefer." I look as he extends his hidden blade.

"You say now. Does that mean you plan to kill me when you've finished using me?"

"For the moment, the only plan I have is to try and show you the error of your way."

"Fine. I suppose it would not hurt to work with you on this. Just do not try anything funny." Father just smiles in response.

"Excellent. Shall we be off then?" He turns and begins to leave, but I stay still. I'm not wasting time following him blindly.

"Do you even know where Church has gone?" He pauses but doesn't face me.

"Unfortunately, no. I meant to sabotage him when he returned here, but it seems I'm too late. They came and cleared the place out." I join him at the doorway, looking at the path. I see clues.

"I think I may be able to track him." I push past him, ignoring his look of mild surprise. As I investigate the first clue, I hear his gentle footsteps behind me in the snow. I continue investigating, even as he speaks.

"Tell me, Connor, why is it you help the patriots? Many natives have chosen to side with the British."

"My tribe has, upon my insistence, remained neutral. But I feel like our best hope is with the patriots. They seek freedom and safety from tyranny, which I believe is what we need to be able to be left alone. After all, that's all any of the tribes want. Freedom."

"I see. Do you think your people will be treated well by the colonists?"

"Well I can see already many colonists do not like us. I have experienced personally a lot of hate simply for my skin color, as has Achilles. I think it may take a long time before that mistreatment is completely gone, maybe even after my lifetime. But still, knowing how the British treat the colonists, I'm sure we would get worse. Besides, as an Assassin my job is to see to it that all are free."

"Even at the expense of equality?"

"How do you mean?"

"As you were saying, people are treated a certain way based on their color, or gender, even on wealth. It is because humans in general are weak. They yearn for freedom, but they abuse it."

"Is that why you seek to control? You believe that you can make people equal by taking away their choice?"

"I do. Too much freedom leads to disorder and corruption. People will trample others just because that's how they are, because they can. But if that choice was taken? Imagine a world where your people didn't have to fear mine because we're all equal."

"But we are equal."

"Yes, son. We are. But that doesn't make being a native any easier, does it?"

"You have given me much to think about."

"Good. I hope you can come to understand that me and mine are not evil." I finally find what I've been looking for. In the distance I see a cart.

"Father, look up ahead. That must be one of the carts they're using to carry some of the cargo."

"Good work."

I look over at my father as he pats my shoulder. I approach the cart, noticing Father wants me to take the lead. As we reach it, I see a man crouched by the wheel, grumbling about having to fix it. I look over my shoulder at Father, hoping he'll take over. But he just gestures to the man. I sigh.

"Are you Ben Church's man?" I ask with my hands folded. As the words came out of my mouth, I realize how stupid that was. This is why I don't like talking.

The man turns from me and just begins running into the forest. I look over my shoulder at Father, who is snickering at me. I feel incredibly embarrassed, knowing what a fool I must look like.

"Well played," he says. I roll my eyes and run after the man. After a few short moments, I tackle him.

"It was not wise to run," I say, pinning him to the ground. I hear Father come up just behind me.

"What do you want?" The man asks.

"Where is Benjamin Church?"

"I don't know! I was on my way to a camp just north of here, it's where we normally unload the cargo. Maybe you'll find him ther—" he got cut off by Father blowing his brains out. I stumble back a few feet, my ears ringing. I look up at him, anger rising.

"You did not have to kill him!"

"Enough, there's no time for this silly arguing. Go infiltrate the camp. See what you can discover," he says.

"What about you?"

"What about me? I've given you your task."

"So am I to do all the work?"

"Never you mind, just do as I ask." I realize that this man is not used to being asked questions. He's used to saying to do something and it just gets done. I don't want him to think he can push me around, but at the same time he is right. Time is of the essence. I'll work through this with him another time.

"Fine, but I am not an errand boy. I expect you to contribute." I turn to go.

 **Haytham POV**

I watch my son disappear into the trees. He would hate to know this, but I'm testing him. I need to know how much he knows, and how useful he will be in the future. If things go well, this may not be the extent of our truce.

I follow after him, seeing him briefly in the trees as he follows a group of mercenaries. I pay no mind to what they say, surely Connor is listening. I hope so, anyway.

We make it into the camp, and after doing some eavesdropping of my own, I decide it's time. I am going to hate this part, but it is crucial. I need to know if I can rely on him.

I let the mercenaries drag me to the center of the camp. They take me to a man who was finishing talking to someone else. Hearing us, he dismisses them and turns to us.

"What have we here?" He asks.

"He was creepin' around the camp all suspicious like," the guard on the left of me says.

"Must be a yank spy!" The one on the right adds.

"No, he's something different, something special. Ain't that right, Haytham?" The one in front of me says, bending over to look me in the eyes. His breath is foul, a mixture of tobacco and alcohol. He has an air of authority about him.

"You know me?" I ask, actually a bit surprised.

"Church told me all about you."

"Then you should know better than this." As I hoped, he punches me once. I look to make sure Connor saw. The boy remains unmoving.

"You aren't really in the position to be making threats, are you?"

"Well... not yet, anyway." That angers him more, and the next thing I know he is punching and kicking me over and over.

I begin to wonder if Connor is going to help. I see him still in the bushes, watching. As if he's waiting for something. I decide that enough is enough, I'll fight them myself. Connor and I will talk about this later.

Just as I have that thought, Connor runs out of the bushes and throws a knife at the man punching me. It lands in his throat, and he gurgles on his blood on the way down. Connor then stabs the guard on my right, killing him. I use my free arm to stab the other one. I look to see more guards coming our way. This is perfect.

"When you've finished here, meet me in New York," I say.

"You mean to just leave? Now?" He asks, looking at me in shock.

"If you can't handle a few mercenaries, we haven't any business working together. I'll see you there!"

"Unbelievable."

I leave, barely able to hear his last comment. I almost change my mind. I don't want him to think bad about me, but at the same time I have to know he can handle himself. He's useless to me if I have to babysit him in a fight. Decision made, I find my horse and ride for New York, where I learned from my own eavesdropping Church would be.


	3. Chapter 3

**Alright, here's chapter 3! Be sure to let me know what you think!**

 **Connor POV**

"Unbelievable," I say, though I'm sure he's out of ear shot. I pull out my tomahawk and ready to fight. Alone, since Father left me. I don't think I can work with him if he doesn't start pitching in. Surely there's a good reason he abandoned me, maybe I just don't understand.

They finally all lay dead at my feet. I'm beginning to calm down a bit. I suppose it's better I got my anger out on them, rather than Father. I still can't believe he left, but at least this wasn't hard. I sigh and go get my horse. I must meet my unbearable father in New York, and I don't plan on walking there.

Little did I know that's exactly what I would be doing. I stop that night to camp, only to awake the next morning to a dead horse. Wolves, I decide. I'm finally here, but it took me three days to make it. I'm still sad about my horse, she was wonderful.

I decide that before I meet my father, I should restock on ammunition. No telling what he intends, or where this mission will take us. I enter the general store.

When I finish, I step back out. I'm about to go find Father when I hear a commotion. I load my gun, then round the corner to check it out. I see a group of three men harassing a young lady. They're all dressed in all black, masks hiding their faces.

"Hey!" I shout, quickening my pace.

"Aw, get lost," one says.

"Walk away, pal," says the second.

"No," I say.

"Fuck off, injun. I mean it," three says.

"I'll leave if you do."

"Let's teach this boy a lesson!"

Two of them charge at me. One swings, and I duck under that. The other tries to ram himself into me. I use his force to flip him over, and with a hard hit to the head knock him out. Back on my feet, I catch the arm of another and twist it, breaking the arm. Before he can move, I knock his head together with the remaining one's, knocking them both out. I approach the girl who's now cowering.

"Are you okay?" I ask, crouching next to her. She must be around my age, I think. She's wearing a green dress that matches her green eyes, maybe even brings them out more. She has very light skin, and fiery red hair.

"I think so..." she says. I stand up and extend my hand to her, which she accepts. I help her to her feet, then help her pick up the belongings she dropped.

"Are you sure? Did they hurt you?"

"No, I'm fine, really. Thanks a lot. What's your name?"

"Connor. Yours?"

"Emily Carson."

"What are you doing out here all by yourself?"

"My dad owns a general store in Boston, I came here to trade some stuff with another store we get along well with."

"You should be more careful. Will you make it back okay?"

"Yes, I should."

"Just in case, you should at least be armed. Here." I hand her a knife. It is one I had crafted by Big Dave, though I don't use it much.

"I can't take this, Connor."

"I insist. You'll be safer."

"Okay. Thank you."

"You're welcome. Be safe, Emily."

"I will. If you're ever in Boston, come find me."

"I will." She walks up to me and, standing on her toes, kisses my cheek. I blush, and wave as she walks away. That was unexpected.

Finally, I reach the docks. This is where Father wanted to meet, right? Surely, he can't be far. Unless he gave up on me entirely. Maybe he thinks me dead, or that I abandoned him. I hope he has been at least a little patient.

 **Haytham POV**

God, I hope that boy is there. It's been days since I arrived, surely he couldn't have left but maybe ten minutes after I did. I regret leaving him. Maybe he was overwhelmed. What if he died, all because of my negligence? I couldn't live with that.

I sigh in relief as I see the boy there at the docks, looking around. He seems frustrated. I wonder if he thinks I left. If only he knew how much I've been worrying. I approach him, not letting my relief show.

"Evening, Connor. I see you made it in one piece," I say.

"Recovered from your beating, then?" He retorts. He seems to enjoy the look on my face.

"Lucky for you, I've made good use of the time you've made me wait. I found out that he's holed up in some abandoned brewery."

"Lead the way, Father."

We run across the rooftops. He's oddly quiet, I wonder what he's thinking about. The only sound is our feet knocking on the rooftops. Finally, though, he speaks.

"Father?" He says. I stop, but don't turn. "Tell me something."

"Hm?" I hum.

"You could have killed me when we first met. What stayed your hand?"

"Curiosity. Any other questions?" I glance at him over my shoulder, he looks almost hurt at my answer. I look back in front of me. Should I have said something else?

"What is it the Templars truly seek?" At this, I turn to face him. He's taking an interest.

"Order. Purpose. Direction. No more than that. It's your lot that means to confound this nonsense talk of freedom. Time was, the Assassins proclaimed a far more sensible goal. That of peace."

"Freedom is peace."

"Oh, no. It's an invitation to chaos. Just look at this little revolution your friends have started. I have stood before the continental congress and listened to them stamp and shout. All in the name of liberty. But it is just noise."

"And this is why you favor Lee?" He seems disgusted to even say that name. That might be an issue in the future. I wonder if Charles did something to him in the prison, perhaps? He clearly hates the man, maybe more than he hates me.

"He understands the needs of this would be nation far more than the idiots who profess to represent it."

"But the people chose Washington, whether you like that or not."

"The people? You know who chose Washington, Connor? A small privileged group of people, making a decision that would benefit them. They may have dressed it up with pretty words, but that does not make it true. The only difference, son, between myself and those you aid is that I do not feign affection." Connor looks away and scowls. He does not even look as I continue on. "Are you coming?" Connor huffs and follows.

"Washington is a good man, Father. Despite what you may think, he only has the best intentions."

"This discussion is over."

"No! You do not get to decide that it is over because you are tired of it! What gives you the right to make the decisions? And why must you always just tell me you're right because you say so? You cannot prove a thing!"

"I mean it boy, drop it."

"Who do you think you are?!" I spin to face him, and he bumps into me, not expecting the sudden stop. I cannot even believe the disrespect of this boy.

"Well, your father for one."

"Oh, right. Like that makes a difference? You can't keep out of my life, then try and kill me, then expect me to respect you because you're my father!"

"Well how's this answer then. You will listen to me because I am more experienced than you and could easily kill you. The only reason you live now is because I wish it."

"Why do you even wish it? So I can do all the work finding Church?"

"You're not doing all the work. I'm here, now aren't I?"

"Yeah, and you WERE here instead of helping me with those mercenaries, and you WERE here instead of helping me when my horse was killed, and I was forced to make half the trip on foot! A partnership is where we work _together_. The only thing we have done together since we began the truce was bicker!"

"And look what we're doing now? Grow up, Connor. I don't have time for childish behavior."

"Obviously, or you would have been a _good father_. But I suppose that would be asking too much. After all, a child _always_ behaves like a child. Is that why you weren't around, why you left mother? You probably found out she was pregnant and left right away. You didn't want anything to do with raising your child. I just don't understand why you pretend to want to be around me now." That hurt. Surely, he doesn't know that all I've ever yearned for was a family.

"I mean it, I don't want to hear another word from you."

"So? Do I look like I care what you want?!"

"Connor, you knock it off. Your behavior is uncalled for."

"Then why don't you answer me?"

"Because I don't have to." I turn around and keep walking. From behind me, I hear Connor growl and punch a chimney.

"I hate you," he mumbles before following. Those three words echo in my head, haunting me the whole way there. I don't want him to hate me.

After some more time in silence, we reach the brewery. There are a few men stationed outside of the building, and I can't help but swear.

"What is it?" Connor asks.

"I was hoping to waive you past the guards, but he's replaced most of them with men I don't know. I could get by without arousing suspicion but you..." I look at Connor. Dressed like that, especially. He'll stick out like a sore thumb. I'll do this myself, then. I begin to head across the street, but Connor catches my arm.

"No. We do this _together._ Or not at all." I sigh. This boy is ridiculous.

"Then what do you propose?"

"I will find a guard off duty and take his uniform."

"Very well. I'll wait here then." I sit down against the wall.

"Of course you will."

"Oh, I'm sorry! Would you like me to come along, and hold your hand perhaps? Provide you kind words of encouragement?"

"Jerk." Connor walks off.

"Brat."

I take a deep breath. Knowing Connor he will take forever, he seems to be kind of slow sometimes. I rest my head in my hands.

As much as I try to play it off, Connor's words had hit me where it hurt. Sure I'm a terrible father, but that doesn't mean I want to hear it. Am I too harsh on the boy? Should I be more sparing with encouragement? Should I be softer with him? For all I know, he'll reject that too. I don't know what a young man needs from his father. I didn't even have one at his age, so I don't even have that much to go off of.

Before I know it, Connor returns. He is adjusting the uniform, looking rather uncomfortable. I hop up and smooth it out a bit. I must admit, now that he I see Connor's face, I see a lot of myself in the boy. Originally, I had mostly seen Ziio, but I am definitely there too.

"That should suffice. Come along," I say. We walk over to the door, and a guard stops us.

"Hold strangers. This is private property. What business have you here?" He asks.

"The father of understanding guides us," I say.

"You I recognize. Not the savage." I don't let it show how angry that makes me. I hate that term anyway, but applied to my son? Even worse.

"He is my son." Connor looks over at me in surprise.

"Heh, tasted of the forest fruits, did you? Off you go then." It takes all I have not stab him.

"You didn't have to look so shocked," I mention when we make it in.

"It's just... I did not expect you to..." Connor stutters.

"To what, claim you? You _are_ my son, I'm not ashamed of that."

"I... guess I thought you would be."

"I'm not the only person with an idiot son."

"You know, for a second I did not hate you." I smile over my shoulder at him.

"That's progress."

"Yeah, well I hate you again." I laugh, I can't help it. Before I turn my head back around, I see him smile. He's acting mad, yet it seems my laughter is something he wants to hear. Noted.

"Right, of course you do. Pfft, kids."

"It must be strange for you, discovering my existence as you have."

"I'm actually kind of curious what your mother may have said about me. I've always wondered… what would life be like had she and I stayed together? How is she, by the way?"

"Dead. Murdered." My heart stopped. I had feared this, but upon seeing Connor alive I hoped she was fine.

"What? I... I'm so sorry."

"You're sorry? I found my mother burning alive. I'll never forget her face as she sent me away. Charles Lee is responsible for her death by your order. And you're sorry?"

My heart is actually breaking at both the sorrow in Connor's voice and my own hurt. I was right all along. I hadn't known she was burned alive, though now that Connor said so it makes sense. I put the pieces together. I can perhaps shed some light, tell Connor the truth. Part, anyway.

"That's impossible, I gave no such order. I spoke the opposite in fact! I told them to give up the search for the precursor sight, we were to focus on more practical pursuits-"

"It is done. And I am all out of forgiveness."

Connor opens the door and enters the next room. That must be why he's so cold to me, he thinks I'm responsible for the death of his mother. I take a deep breath, then follow. In the next room there stands Benjamin Church, facing away from us. I step ahead of Connor.

"Benjamin Church. You are accused of betraying the Templar Order and abandoning our principles in pursuit of personal gain. In consideration of your crime, I hereby sentence you to death," I say.

"Now!" The man says as he turns around, revealing it is not Church. More men come and surround us, pointing their guns at Connor and me. "You're too late. Church and the cargo are long gone. And I'm afraid you won't be in any condition to follow."

Connor and I exchange a look, then take the guns nearest us and point them away before using the guard as a human shield against the others. We begin fighting together, ignoring the taunts of the decoy.

I haven't felt this adrenaline rush in years. It is wonderful to fight alongside someone who can keep up and provide support. And all our issues aside, we can trust each other to have our backs. I know one thing; Achilles trained this boy well.

"Tell me where Church has gone," Connor says to the decoy as I finish with the last soldier.

"I'll tell you anything you want! Just let me live," the man says. Connor looks to me, and I nod. Connor pulls the man to his feet.

"You have my word," Connor promises.

"He left yesterday for Martinique. He took passage on a trading sloop called the Welcome. Loaded half its hold with the cargo he stole from the patriots. That's all I know, I swear!" I stab him in the back. "You promised..."

"And _he_ kept his promise. Let's go." Connor stares at me in shock. It's not like he's never killed someone.

Three men up above come up and point their muskets. They aim at us, but Connor drags me behind cover. The men improvise and shoot a powder keg nearby. It explodes and in turn lights the whole place on fire.

 **Connor POV**

We get up, and Father makes a dash to find a way out. He begins climbing to try and get out that way, when he notices I'm still standing still. I feel paralyzed, and maybe even terrified. I can feel myself hyperventilating but can't will myself to calm down. I'm afraid of fire?

"Connor! Let's go!" Father calls. I make no move to follow. I can't. I've never felt this fear before, so overwhelming. "Son, come on!"

"Father…" I begin.

"Look at me, boy." I look up at Father and make eye contact. The calm blueness of them calms my nerves a bit. "It's okay, son. Please, let's go." I take a deep breath and follow.

"We need to get out of here," I say.

"You don't say..."

It was all a blur to me. The only thing I truly recall from that point on was shoving Father through the wall, landing in the water. He glares at me when we land. He mumbles something about me being an idiot as he swims to shore.

I didn't even realize how much fire scares me, but now Father knows too. He is sure to make an issue of it, at least make fun of me.

But surprisingly he never does.


	4. Chapter 4

**Here we are with chapter 4! Sorry it's a bit longer than usual, and also a lot of dialogue, but I hope ya'll enjoy nonetheless! (Reviews always welcome!)**

 **Connor POV**

"Call it a night, Captain," Mr. Faulkner says. "I'll keep us moving."

"Thank you," I say. "Um, Father?"

"Yes, son," Father says. He is leaning against the rails, looking at the water. He seems so peaceful, it's hard to believe the man he really is. Or maybe I'm seeing the man he is now?

"Would you care to stay in my quarters? I have an extra place in there to sleep, unless you'd rather sleep below deck."

"I suppose I could stay in your quarters."

"Um, okay. Just come on in when you're ready." He nods. I go into my quarters. I begin to undress, knowing Father will be a few minutes before he joins me. I look over the map, hearing conversation outside.

"I don't like you, Mr. Kenway," Mr. Faulkner says.

"I don't think it's your job to like me. Just don't let Connor hear you say that," Father says.

"That's just the thing. He looks up to you, and you treat him like dirt. The poor kid would keep you out of his life if he knew what was good for him."

"Well, I'm sure we'll go our separate ways soon. Don't worry." I feel my heart sink. I think I've been hoping for a truce to last. I must admit, I am growing a little attached.

"What happens if he decides he doesn't want to part ways? If he wants to continue working with you?"

"Well, I'm sure I wouldn't mind. Maybe he'll convert." I roll my eyes.

"Why don't you tell Achilles that."

"Is he still kicking?"

"He is, though he's not too healthy I must admit. Don't mention that around the lad."

"He cares a lot about the old man, huh?"

"He practically raised him."

"So... he's a father figure..."

"That's what happens when you aren't around." Father sighs. He sounds genuinely hurt by the idea.

"I know."

"Maybe you ought to turn in, Mr. Kenway. If for no other reason than I don't want you to wake the Captain if he's sleeping."

"Yes, I suppose so. It won't help anything for me to be out here anyway." I hear his footsteps approaching the captain's cabin, and he enters.

 **Haytham POV**

Connor is standing with his back to me, looking at something on the table as he leans on it. He is wearing nothing but a pair of pants, quite a contrast from how I'm used to seeing him.

"The way I figure it," Connor says, "we should catch up within a couple days. No longer than a week."

"Excellent," I say. I have no love of sailing.

"You can have my bed, if you wish."

"And where would you sleep?"

"There's a couch in here I don't mind sleeping on."

"I'm not kicking you out of your own bed, so you can sleep on the couch. I'll take it." Connor looks at me over his shoulder. He seems so relaxed, so innocent. I wish I could see this side of him more.

"If you insist."

I walk over to the couch and take off my shoes, belt, hat, weapons, and coat. I look around in hopes of finding a pillow and blanket. I find the former as Connor whacks me with it. I turn to Connor and am about ready to shout at him when I see the boy is smiling. Oh, so that's how it's going to be huh?

"I saw you were looking for a pillow, thought I'd help a bit," Connor says.

"Oh, how thoughtful," I say sarcastically.

"I know, right?" I turn away from Connor, hiding the smile that's creeping onto my own face. Connor doesn't seem like a very happy person, and he certainly doesn't joke around much. I can't be mad now, seeing him do both.

"You may want to sleep with one eye open," I say, and turn to see how Connor would react, and see a smile lingers.

"Explain to my crew why you murdered me in my sleep and see how long you survive."

"You make a fair point, I'm pretty sure they're looking for an excuse to kill me as is." His smile drops, and his eyebrows pinch together.

"What did you do?"

"Oh, nothing. They just don't seem to like me much. Maybe because I'm British, or a Templar, or maybe some other nonsense."

"Maybe because you're a jerk." I sit on the couch and give Connor a look. Neither of us are joking at this point.

"Not to my friends."

"Well I'm your son, you think you could be decent to me?"

"I don't wish-"

"Oh, that's right. Just tell me to shut up. Is that not what you always do any time someone says something you do not wish to hear? Well, Father, I am not one of your little lapdogs. You have no authority over me. Especially not here, on my ship in my room."

"Oh, well, fine. Please, will you let out your entire life's worth of anger at me right now? I would love to hear how much you hate me." Connor sighs and sits next to me on the couch.

"I do not truly hate you. I do not trust you, or even like you, but I do not hate you either."

"I'm not sure if that's something I wanted to hear or not."

"Like it or not that's how it is. You want me to trust you, earn it. You want me to like you, be like-able. It is simple."

"Tell me what you want from me."

"I just did."

"But that doesn't—"

"You're a smart man. Figure out what to do if you want things to change." With that Connor gets up and crosses the room. He tosses a blanket in my direction. "Sleep well." Connor blows out the light.

"You as well, son."

I awake in the night feeling queasy. God, I hate sailing. I decide a breath of fresh air will do good. I get up and quietly exit the room.

Tonight is our third night out at sea. Before we went to bed, Connor assured me we would be to Martinique tomorrow. I hope he's right, I crave solid land below my feet.

Robert Faulkner is at the helm, as he has been each night. It seems he sleeps little, though he does rest some during the day while Connor takes his turn. Still, I think he's ready for this manhunt to be over as well.

"Mr. Kenway, what brings you out here?" Mr. Faulkner asks.

"Seasickness," I say honestly.

"If you throw up, it better be over the side."

"I think I'm okay. Just wanted some fresh air." I go and sit down, leaning against the ledge of the ship.

"The Captain doesn't expect us to be out at sea for long. The _Aquila_ , she is quicker than most ships, it is likely she'll have us caught up soon."

"Connor said something along those lines earlier."

"Mr. Kenway, might I ask you a question?"

"You may, though I may not choose to answer."

"Fair enough. You and your son seem to have quite a strained relationship. Is it just because of the whole Assassin Templar thing?"

"Well, I suppose that's part of it. It's mostly what we argue about, anyway. But it was hard for him, not having a father all his life, especially after what happened to his mom. From the way I understand it he was pretty young when she...died. He blames me for it."

"He was four, and she was all he had. The others in the tribe were kind to him, but at the same time made him aware that he was different."

"Different?"

"When you're mixed races, it's hard to fit in anywhere."

"They gave him a hard time for being part white?"

"You know that most Indians hate white men. Rightfully so usually, but that's beside the point. The Captain was seen as the bastard son of a white man. His mother was the only one who gave him undying love. That is, until _she_ died."

"The poor kid..." I realize why he hates me, why he feels so bitter. I failed him. I don't deserve his forgiveness.

"When he was a bit older, some... spirits, I suppose, came to him and showed him the Assassin's symbol, and told him to seek it. That it would be the only way to protect his tribe. So he asked the Clan Mother, who apparently knew Achilles. He hiked from his village to the old man's place, and after some coaxing, he took him in."

"What's it like between them?"

"Strange, to most. They love each other dearly, that's for sure. But they don't see eye to eye on very much. So they bicker all the time. But at the end of the day, no one had better mess with either, or the other would make them pay with their life."

"I see. Is that why he goes by Connor? Because of Achilles?"

"Nobody outside his tribe could pronounce that name of his. Achilles grew tired of calling him things like "boy", so I guess he named him Connor."

"After his own son."

"Aye."

"Goddammit." Mr. Faulkner chuckles.

"And why is that a bad thing?"

"I don't like being replaced."

"Well, it's your own doing."

"I know. Doesn't make me like it any more."

"All I have to say is, he's giving you a chance. As much as I don't like you, I will tell you this; you would be a fool not to fix things between you both. He's a good kid."

"I know he is." We fall silent again, and before I know it I'm drifting off to sleep.

"Half sail!" Connor shouts, jolting me awake. I look up to see my son back in his Captains clothes and at the wheel. I must have been asleep for hours, because the sun is up and everyone on the ship is as well.

"Why are you slowing down?" I ask as I stand up. I walk over by Connor and cross my hands behind my back.

"Because, Father, I do not wish for these rocks to impale my ship. We need her if we wish to find Church," Connor replies.

"Well drive better, you'll lose ground."

"Go back to sleep."

"What?"

"If you are asleep, I do not have to listen to you be a know it all." I just roll my eyes.

"This was a poor heading. He's likely days ahead of us now."

"Have some faith in the boy, he's yet to disappoint," Faulkner says.

"Well the bar hasn't been set very high, now has it?"

"We are closer than you think, Father," Connor says, venom in his voice. I look at him, and I regret what I said. I'm too hard on him.

"Ship ho!" someone calls.

"Is it the Welcome?"

"Aye, and she's dropped anchor," Faulkner says.

"Bring us in for a closer look, son," I urge, as gently as I can. Connor moves in closer and sighs.

"It seems the ship has been abandoned," Connor says.

"Church always was a slippery bastard..."

"Enemy ahead! They're making to flee!" one of the crew says.

"Full sail!" Connor says.

I rush into the Captains quarters and put all my things on. When I return, Connor is barking orders. But for a moment, I'm not sure if I am looking at my son, or my father.

I push that thought away.

The next few minutes is a series of Mr. Faulkner yelling at Connor to slow down, and me telling him to speed up. The poor kid is so stressed and confused he doesn't know what to do. He's doing his best to maneuver the rocks while keeping on the ship's tail. After nearly destroying the other ship, Connor comes in close. He's determined to salvage the cargo aboard. Which is fine with me, since that means I can deal with Church personally.

"What are you doing?!" Connor demands as I shove him out of the way and take the wheel.

"Ending. This," I say right before throwing the _Aquila_ into the other ship and hopping aboard, all before Connor regains his balance.

"Prepare to board!"

 **Connor POV**

I quit paying attention as Faulkner starts giving orders. With a shout, I jump aboard the enemy ship.

 _'I need to get below deck. No telling what madness my father intends,'_ I think after killing a few people. Once the ship is securely taken, I go below deck.

"So here we are, face to face at last, my friend," Father is saying from somewhere ahead. I know he is speaking to Church, and so continue walking to find the two. "It's been quite an adventure, let me tell you. Working my way through your nasty little tricks and traps. Clever. Some of them, anyway. I'll give you credit for that. And for the quietude with which you pulled it off. We had a DREAM, Benjamin! A dream you sought to DESTROY. And for that, my fallen friend, YOU SHALL BE MADE TO PAY!"

I open the door, finding Father beating the life out of Church. He looks _mad._ But I have more on my mind than Father's vendetta.

"Enough!" I say firmly. Father stops punching and is breathing hard. "We came here for a reason."

"Different reasons, it seems," Father says. But he moves out of my way just the same. Not before punching Church one last time, of course.

"Where are the supplies you've stolen?"

"Go to hell," Church says in almost a whisper. I stab Church, then rise.

"I ask again. Where are the supplies?"

"On the island yonder, awaiting pickup. But you've no right to them, they aren't yours."

"No, not mine. Those supplies are meant for the men and women who believe in something bigger than themselves. Who fight and die that they may one day be free of tyranny such as you."

"Are those the same men and women who fight using British steel? And bind their wounds with bandages sewn by British hands? How convenient for them. We do the work. They reap the rewards."

"You spin a story to excuse your crimes, as if you are the innocent one and they the thief."

"It's all a matter of perspective. There is no single path through life that is fair and does no harm. Do you truly think the Crown has no cause? No reason to feel betrayed? You should know better than this, dedicated as you are to fighting Templars." He glares at Father. "They themselves think their work is just. Think on that next time you insist only your work benefits the greater good. Your enemies may beg to differ, and not without cause..." with that, he dies.

 _"Your words may have been sincere, but that does not make them true,"_ I say in Kanien'kehá: ka. I turn and walk to Father.

 **Haytham POV**

"You did well. His death was a boon to us both," I say. I place my hand on Connor's shoulder. I don't feel comfortable saying I'm proud of him, but I hope he knows that's what I'm getting at.

Connor looks down at my hand, looking uncomfortable. I decide to move it, realizing my gesture that was supposed to be a supportive one is a breach of personal space to him. But his expression changes, going from discomfort to... I don't know, he seems like it dawns on him what my intention is of this gesture. He looks back at me, making no move to remove my hand. I smile slightly, this is progress.

"I assume you'll want my help retrieving everything from the island?" I say after some time of us looking at each other in an easy silence. I gently squeeze his shoulder, then turn to go.

Several days have passed since the death of Church. With each, I have grown more comfortable around Connor. Even though I'm ready to be off that boat, part of me isn't ready to leave him. I have no way of knowing what will happen down the road. Maybe he's tired of me already. Finally, though, we make it to the city.

"Well, I suppose this is where we part ways," I say as I leave the _Aquila_. Connor has taken me to New York upon request. Now we both stand just off the ship.

"Yes, I suppose so," Connor agrees. I'm not sure, but I think I hear reluctance. Or is it wishful thinking on my part?

"Who knows, maybe the opportunity will arise for us to work together again." I know I'm not imagining the smile on his face. It warms my heart to know that he would like to work with me again sometime.

"If I do not kill you first." I smile slightly. I know by the look in Connor's eyes that that isn't a threat, but his way of teasing.

"If you could kill me, you would have by now. I think you're afraid."

"Of what? You're practically ancient history." I scoff.

"Weren't you ever taught to respect your elders, boy?"

"Wow, that made you actually sound like an old man. Good job." I chuckle and pat his shoulder.

"Safe travels, son."

"See you around." Connor boards the ship. I watch as the _Aquila_ sails away.

Is that it? Did I miss my chance to mend things? Will I ever even see Connor again?

If I do, will I have to kill him?

I sigh, the _Aquila_ now out of sight. I suppose I ought to find Charles, make sure he knows everything is fine and that Church is dead.

"Master Kenway, I thought I saw you!" Charles calls. I turn and look. Well that makes things easier.

"Charles, there you are," I say.

"Is it done, sir?"

"Church is dead, yes."

"Good job, sir. I knew you could do it." I look back to where the ship had just been.

"Thank you, Charles." I decide it is best to keep the partnership quiet, at least for now.

"Sir, there are some things we must discuss."

"Fine. But not here."

We walk together in silence. Eventually we make it to a tavern. I buy myself a glass of rum, then Charles and I sit upstairs.

"It's about the Assassin," Charles says once we're both seated. Connor. Of course.

"What about him?" I ask, grateful for my ability to hide my emotions. I'm overwhelmed with many. There is nothing in this world I want more than to protect my son, but I'm conflicted as well. The last time I saved him, it cost the life of one of my own.

"Things have gotten worse, sir. Since the death of Hickey he's been hard at work meddling in our affairs. He's tearing the Order apart."

"Is he now?"

"Yes, that and it's been a while since Hickey. I'm afraid he's plotting for his next assassination. That means that either you or I will be next, sir."

"Oh, come now Charles. I've trained you well enough that you shouldn't fear some kid."

"What about Johnson, or Pitcairn? Neither of them was unknowledgeable!"

"You fear for nothing."

"Easy for you to say."

I roll my eyes. I respect Charles more than any other man. I couldn't have asked for a better second in command.

But he is such a coward.

"So are you saying we should do nothing?" Charles asks.

"Of course not. We must stop him," I say, though I have to admit that I don't like the idea of that.


	5. Chapter 5

**Alright, here's chapter 5! Enjoy!**

 **Haytham POV**

I sprint across the rooftops, killing any of the redcoats that happen to be in my way. The sun set about two hours ago, and since then the clouds in the sky have grown thick and dark, covering up the moon and in turn blocking the city of any light. It's already begun to drizzle, and I can tell we're in for a storm tonight. I do not wish to get soaked, not to mention the fact that there might even be hail.

I see a familiar form out of the corner of my eye, and slide to a stop. My son is on the street, talking to one of those Sons of Liberty fellows. In the rain. I shake my head, wondering how he's okay with getting soaked, while also noting that the intensity of the rain has increased.

It has been two months since I last saw Connor. I've heard nothing of him in that time and was beginning to think he vanished. I didn't realize how much I have begun to care for him until just now, seeing him again. It's incredible how this boy has gotten to his old man in such short time. I wonder if he feels a similar thing, or if he still hates me.

I creep closer, hoping to eavesdrop. But they're only discussing the progress of the war. The man— Sam Adams, if I'm not mistaken— is bragging about some battle that Connor pretty much won on his own. The boy, humble as always, says it just was the right thing to do. I roll my eyes.

Finally, the two part ways. Connor looks around, and his eyes linger where I am. Though I'm hidden, I still am convinced I've been found. But he turns and walks the other way as if he hasn't seen me. I follow.

After speaking briefly with a few people across the city, he finally stops. He looks at a letter, then nods and tucks it away. He approaches a man leaning against a pole.

"I am here on behalf of Doctor White. It is time the campaign against him is put to an end. Who sells the papers that slander him?" He asked.

"You won't find any argument from me. Doc Lyle fixed up my leg good as new. There are paperboys throughout the city who sell the papers. Perhaps with some coin, you might put a stop to it," the man says.

"Thank you." Connor goes to carry out his mission.

I figure, why not help a bit?

With the aid he doesn't know he has, Connor bribes all the paper boys trying to sell papers about the doctor. I catch back up to him to hear him asking one of the children who printed it. The child only tells him that he was hired by a man who pays him to keep it up, and that is all he cares about. But Connor isn't done. He has a town crier point him in the right direction, and soon finds the overseer.

Without a word, Connor slams his fist into the man's face. One, two, three times. He then grabs his coat and holds him still as he speaks angrily to him.

"Your days of slander are through. Do not print or sell anything else about Doctor White, or I'll pay you another visit. And you won't come out of it without a real beating. Understood?" He snarls.

"Y-yes sir," the man said.

"Good. Now, get. Before I regret leaving you conscious." The man scurries off.

Connor looks over his shoulder in my general direction. Does he know I'm watching? But Connor just turns into an alley. How odd. I abandon my hiding spot and follow.

I follow him into the alley, and don't see Connor anywhere. Baffled, I activate my Eagle Vision. Still, nothing. I walk further into the alley. I sigh and turn to go.

Before I know it, a weight from above collides on top of me, knocking me to the ground. I look into the dark brown eyes of my son, who bears a tiny smirk. What is his game?

"It is different when the tables turn. Would you agree?" Connor asks.

"What do you want?" I ask.

"To know why you are following me."

"Don't be foolish, you forget that you are my enemy." Connor extends his blade and presses it to my throat.

"If we are going to be this way, so be it. Any last words?" Connor says in a mock British accent as he fights a smile. Is he...mocking me?

"You think this is some sort of joke!" Connor snickers and retracts his blade. "Get off me, you little brat!"

"I did not hear a please anywhere in the sentence. Or is my English worse than I thought?"

"I am not going to beg you to get off. I am demanding you to."

"No." Rage builds up within me. I hate this brat!

"Dammit Connor, what are you trying to prove?"

"Nothing. Consider this my message." Connor bends down so his face is closer to mine. I can't help but notice that he's soaked and is getting me wet too. "Never follow me again. You are lucky that I hesitate to kill you, even though you are of no use to me. Were I wiser you would be dead, but I will let you live this time. But I mean it, leave me alone. My affairs are my own."

"And what if they concern me?"

"Then approach me next time rather than hiding and pretending I can't see you."

"Fine, you proved your point. Now, kindly remove yourself from on top of me."

"One more word..." I sigh.

"Please, get off me." Connor pats my cheek and gets up. In an instant I'm on my feet.

"Was that so hard?"

"Who is this Doctor White?"

"Someone of no importance to you, Father." I shrug. I don't truly care that much.

"Fine, just curiosity is all."

"Hmph, if you say so." An uncomfortable silence settles between the two of us. I look at my hooded son. If things were different, maybe instead of the awkward silence there would be shared laughter. Instead of standing there awkwardly we could walk home together. If things had been different...

Ah, this is pointless. No use in wondering what might have been. Connor will always hate me. And though I feel regret and even sorrow at this thought, there is not enough there to warrant any major life changes to appease him. I have no love for Connor, anyway. There is something, maybe a flicker of hope that things will change. But whatever it is I feel, it is not love.

"Well...I suppose I should be off," Connor says, clearing his throat. With some hesitation, as if he wants me to stop him from going, he turns. He begins walking down the alleyway.

I notice, again, that Connor is soaked. He folds his arms in what looks like a poor attempt at warmth. He is shivering ever so slightly. Perhaps the boy doesn't have on the layers that I wear.

"Connor, wait," I say. Connor pauses at the end of the alley and looks at me over his shoulder.

"Yes?" He replies.

"Where, if you don't mind me asking, are you headed?"

"New York, there is something there that requires my attention."

"I mean right now." Connor shrugs.

"A tavern, I suppose. It is late, and I have no desire to ride all the way to New York without some rest. Why?"

"Well... I was just concerned, you look rather cold." Connor tilts his head as if I'm speaking a language he doesn't know.

"You know what concerned means?"

"Funny."

"Is my answer satisfactory?"

"Yes, I suppose." Connor turns around, but then stops.

"Would you...be interested in..."

"Well? Out with it." Connor faces me. Why does he look nervous?

"Would you be interested in assisting me?"

"We can discuss it, just not out here. I for one enjoy being where it's dry." Connor nods.

"Okay. That is fine with me."

 **Connor POV**

Father and I sit in the room I have rented for the night. I'm sitting near the fire, trying to warm up at least a little. Father is sitting on the edge of the bed, and looking at him reminds me of what I thought on my ship. For a man I believed to be so cruel, so violent, he seems so calm and gentle now. I don't know which side of him is the real Haytham. Both, I guess.

"I've heard rumor of this band of thieves within New York. They're stealing to both enrich themselves and provide for the British. I aim to put a stop to it, if not for the colonists' struggle, then for the people," I say. The thunder, which grows ever louder, can be heard in the background. The chatter downstairs has died to almost none, most of the people have likely retreated to their homes to escape the storm.

"Rumor. You've heard rumor," Father echoes after a long silence.

"Rumor that I have looked into. It is true."

"Very well. I will accompany you. Should be interesting."

"Excellent. We can leave first thing in the morning." My gaze drifts to the fire. What an odd thing, fire. When controlled it was so useful, necessary even. But when out of control...

My mind wanders further to all those years ago. Images flash through my memory. The distinct smell and crackle of fire. The screams of terror and loss. My own being one. Ista-, afraid and yet affectionate in her last moments.

Against my will, I shudder. That memory cut a wound in my heart. I feel the urge to cry. I would give in, too, if it weren't for the hard look Father is giving me.

"Are you still cold?" He asks. I look at him, then look away. I hope my hurt isn't evident in my eyes, or my facial expression.

"I am fine," I mutter.

"Liar, what's the matter?"

"Nothing." Father sighs.

"Well, since you clearly are not going to be truthful with me, I suppose I have no more purpose. I'll meet you here in the morning." He rises to leave.

"Father, wait."

"Hm?"

"The storm is getting bad out there...perhaps you should rent a room here as well, so you do not have to face the harsh weather."

"Hm, perhaps. Except you have the last room that was available, if you'll recall."

"Then wait it out here."

"Whatever for?"

"I just do not wish for you to get hurt in the storm. It is bad out there." He raises an eyebrow.

"And when did you start concerning yourself with my wellbeing?"

"When you became my partner. You are of little use to me dead." He rolls his eyes and sits down.

"Fine, fine. So since I am trapped here, what do you wish to speak about?" I look down as I fidget with a loose string on my coat.

"How...did you meet Mom?" I look up at Father. He looks shocked to hear the question.

"Why do you ask?"

"I am curious. She did not speak much of you."

"You know, curiosity killed the cat."

"But satisfaction brought it back." Father chuckles, and I feel something warm within me at the sound. I like his laugh. Plus, it makes him seem more… human.

"I came to America in search of a precursor site. I had an amulet, which I thought was the key to the site. I just had to locate it and I could open it, see what could be discovered.

"I brought it with me to speak to Johnson. He inspected it and said it appeared Mohawk in origin. So, I decided to turn to them to seek aid. But first, I had to gain their trust.

"We began the task by looking into a slaver by the name of Silas. He was kidnapping the Iroquois, particularly of your tribe, for slavery."

"Sounds like a lovely fellow," I say.

"Indeed. Anyway, I snuck into the fort, accompanied by my closer assistants, dressed as a red coat delivering more slaves. Your mother was on the cart that I stole."

"You took my people to the slaver?"

"Oh, calm yourself. It was only long enough to get inside. I freed them, both those on the cart and those already inside, upon arrival. I then killed Silas. Once that deed was done, I saw Ziio leading the others to safety. And then I heard nothing from them for months.

"Some time later, I located your mother. I remembered her distinctly, and so when I discovered her it was a familiar face. Well, truth be told I may have been a bit infatuated with her the last time we met, so I had been searching her out. Of course, she spoke English, so that made her useful as well anyway. Well, I learned that she wished to kill a man named Edward Braddock. I offered to help her."

"And let me guess, she decided she could trust you and you both fell madly in love, right?" I ask. He shoots me a glare, and I regret interrupting him.

"Well... I feel that's an over simplification, but yes. Since you are so very clever and interrupted my story, that's the most detail you'll get." Damn, now I really regret interrupting. But Father just smiles a bit, looking lost in the memory. Then his smile fades, and he looks sad. "God, Connor. I miss her."

"Me too, Father."

"I can't help but wonder what life would be like if we stayed together. You and I wouldn't have to work together in secret, I'm sure."

"Perhaps not. Though I suppose we will never know now."

"I suppose not."

I look back into the fire. I hate fire. What I also hate is the lone tear that slid down my face, thinking about Ista and her death always makes me emotional. I wipe it away aggressively.

"What did she tell you about me?" I look at Father.

"As I said, not much. I learned your name reading a diary. All she ever told me was that my father was..." I close my eyes, trying to remember. "She said you were one of the kindest men she knew, and that you cared about people a lot. But she also told me you were a fanatic who hung around the wrong crowd." I look at Father.

"Huh. I expected something more...spiteful."

"What happened between you two?" He shakes his head.

"That is a story for another day, son."

"But-"

"Connor, please." I sigh, but nod.

"Okay, Father. I understand." He looks out the window.

"Connor, this storm isn't going to let up. I'm going to go."

"Father, it is not safe!"

"A little rain never hurt anyone."

"Maybe a little rain, but this is a storm!"

"Goodbye, son."

"You could stay in my room," I blurt out before thinking about it. I think about it after I say it, though, and decide I most certainly do not want that. Perhaps Father will decline?

"There's only one bed."

"Yeah, maybe they have more." What am I saying?

"I'll see, if you're sure."

"It is fine." It is _not_ fine.

"If you insist."

Before long another bed is in the room and parallel to mine. Father thanks the innkeeper as the man departs. He then sighs and sits on the new bed. I crossed my arms over my chest, since I don't know what to do with my hands. Any lightness and comfort between the two of us is gone. Now things are nothing but awkward. I can't even bring up any small talk. Do we have anything in common, aside from Ista? I am not sure. I know very little about Haytham Kenway.

I hate that, actually. I wish we could be normal, but I doubt we ever will. Still, I long for my father and I to get along. Maybe even to like each other. It hurts me to think we never will.

"Is there something the matter?" Father asks.

"No," I mumble as I reluctantly take off my weapons. But not my hidden blades. Never those. I sit on the bed and cross my legs.

"You seem... upset, or perhaps uncomfortable." I don't wish to tell him what's bothering me. I don't want to seem weak or silly.

"I am fine." He narrows his eyes.

"Did you know that you do that?"

"Do what?"

"When you lie, you fiddle with some piece of your clothing." I fold my hands. Now that he pointed it out, I realize I was idly messing with the cuff of my sleeve.

"Sometimes I wish you were not so perceptive."

"And I often wish you weren't deceptive or secretive. Come now, what is bothering you?" I shrug. Then curse in Mohawk when I catch myself rubbing my thumb against my shoe at a scuff mark. I clench my fists and look at Father, who smirks with an eyebrow raised.

"Do not concern yourself over it."

"Connor-"

"I do not need you to pretend you care. For I know you do not, and I do not wish for you to try and lead me to believe what is false."

"Well, excuse me for trying to have empathy. I suppose you are right, I was wrong to try and figure out what was bothering you. Evidently it is of no importance to myself, and it will not aid me to know what you're upset about."

"Go ahead and twist this so I look like the bad guy. Poor Haytham just wants to care for his son, but the big bad Connor is just rejecting every strained effort to make things right. How dare I, right?"

"I merely asked you a simple question. You had no need to flip out."

"A simple question which implied a falsehood!"

"You know what? Forget it. I don't even care what's bothering you." He takes off his weapons, shoes, coat, and hat before laying down. "I would bid you a good night and wish you pleasant sleep, though that would evidently be a trick to make you think I give a damn. Which, I do not!" I huff.

"I am glad we can both agree on something." I plop into bed and roll over so my back is to Father.

Great, that went well. I can't believe I overreacted like that. Now he may not think I'm silly, but he surely thinks I'm childish. That fit was unnecessary. No wonder he can't stand me.


	6. Chapter 6

**Alright, here we are with another chapter! I hope ya'll like this one!**

 **Haytham POV**

An hour has passed, and I lay awake. I hear Connor faintly snoring in the bed next to mine. It is strangely a comfort to me that at least the boy trusts me enough to sleep. Though it is likely a very light sleep.

I sit up and look at the sleeping face of my son. I nearly laugh. Connor's face is still twisted into a scowl. Is the boy ever not scowling?

The same thought also brings me sorrow. If I had done things better, stayed with Ziio to raise Connor, perhaps the boy would be freer with a smile. But alas, I have failed him. I feel guilty for that.

I suppose I feel something for the boy. That day at the gallows is proof. I had felt fear, a feeling I didn't even feel moments after when Hickey was facing death. Why had the prospect of Connor dying intimidated me so if I don't care at least a little?

I think of seeing him in prison. Of the hanging. Of that day at the church where I tackled Connor. Of the mission that followed, where the boy left himself so...vulnerable. I could have and probably should have taken at least one of those opportunities, or even now, to end this thorn in my side. So why can't I do it?

It isn't love. I swear to that. To love is to leave oneself open to hurt, and I have had enough of that for one lifetime. Hell, I have felt enough hurt for a thousand lives. Besides, this boy is a stranger to me. Do I know anything about Connor? Aside from, of course, his hard life and misguided steps. No, I don't know Connor at all. A small voice whispers at me to change that before it is too late. I curse my old age getting to me.

"I cannot get too close. I fear I already have gotten in too deep. For me to get to know you would be to bond. And neither of us need that, son," I whisper. "If things could only be different. Perhaps you could have been raised to be my heir. I could have watched you grow up. Maybe I would know what you look like when you laugh, genuinely happy and carefree. You could have made me proud. And I could have been a good father. No, I do not deserve that title now, do I?" I sigh. "I do not wish to bring you harm. But I fear it will come to that. Unless I can bring you over...then I wouldn't have to hurt you. You can be by my side. We can work together to guide the colonies as father and son. God...that would be wonderful. To have you trust me, love me, and work with me. All of which without hiding the fact we even speak. I would have loved that." I brush hair from Connor's face, realizing I'm standing by his bedside. When did I get up? It doesn't matter, I rest my hand on his cheek. "I suppose I care more about you than I wish to let on." With one last sigh I lay back down to sleep. The night that follows is restless, filled with torment of my guilt and regret.

I awake once more. I don't know how much time has passed but hear that the rain and wind has slowed nearly to a stop. That is good, Connor and I will be able to travel in the morning.

At first, I think it is my own torment that awoke me, but after a moment I hear Connor mumbling from the other bed while tossing and turning. I sit up and look at the boy, who looks like he is...frightened? What does a man like Connor have nightmares about?

I look over at the dwindling fire. And it dawns on me. Connor is afraid of fire. I wonder if his dream has anything to do with a fire. Or, perhaps _the_ fire.

I look back at my son, who is now speaking much louder. It is of course in Mohawk. But it sounds distressed. Perhaps I ought to wake him...

As I have that thought and decide to act on it, Connor sits upright in a blur of motion. He is sweating immensely. And... hyperventilating. Connor's panic almost makes me panic. I've never seen Connor this way. Not even when we were trapped in the fire.

"Ista!" He says through his breaths. I realize I'm staring and decide to do something.

"Hey, hey, Connor, it was just a dream," I say. I move over to Connor's bed and sit next to him.

"Father?"

"It's okay, it was just a dream."

"No, it was not! It was real! Ista!" Now not only is he hyperventilating, but he's struggling to control the tears leaving his eyes. I've never seen him cry before, this alone freaks me out. I feel helpless.

"Look at me. You need to relax. Breathe in." He meets my eyes but is still breathing fast. "No, I mean a big deep breath, keep breathing in until I say." He obeys, taking a long deep breath. "Okay, hold it." Connor complies. I count to three in my head. "Let it out." Connor exhales, letting out a long breath before sniffling. "You good?"

"Yeah..." Connor sniffles again and wipes his eyes. "I'm so sorry. I... the dreams, they've never been so bad. Never felt so...real." Connor looks down in embarrassment. "I did not intend to wake you..."

I feel strong pity for him. He thinks I'm judging him, or that I think he's weak. He couldn't be more wrong. I gently wipe the fresh tear that escapes Connor's eye. I hope it's the comforting paternal gesture I'm intending it to be.

"Do not apologize," I say in a whisper.

"Thank you..." he mumbles.

"Whatever for?"

"Calming me down."

"I must confess, I almost panicked as well. You looked..."

"Scared? Hysterical?"

"Both." Connor looks away, shame evident on his face.

"I... was more than just a little scared."

"Hey. Look at me." Connor bites his lip but does not comply. I gently take his chin and turn his head to me.

"I never wanted to be seen like that... especially not by you."

"Look, I understand how you must feel. I know you work hard to build a protective wall around your heart. And you hide your emotions, showing the world only a scowl. But know this. To feel love, hurt, or fear does not make you weak. In fact, it takes a brave man to admit any of those. Especially when you carry as much weight as you do, it's easy to be ashamed at any show of what you think is weakness. But listen, anyone who cares about you will not frown upon a weak moment. They will be there to support you. And I promise, I will not see you any different because you are being haunted by the ghosts of your past." Damn, that was a good speech. Maybe my parenting skills aren't completely bad.

Connor smiles. He looks me in the eyes a few moments, most likely taking in my words and replaying them in his head. He knows that my words are sincere. He surprises me when he wraps his arms around me.

I freeze. I know he wouldn't ordinarily do this, but he's vulnerable at the moment. I feel needed, like I'm actually important to him. I did something right, for once. His grip tightens, and I smile and wrap my own arms around him in a hug. I feel the strongest fondness for him, stronger than any feeling I've had in years.

If it could only be this easy when Connor isn't hurting and emotionally vulnerable.

 **Connor POV**

I expected to wake up this morning feeling the same strong fondness for Father that I had last night. But if there was any change after our experience, I can't tell. Father is no longer a caring and concerned parent. He is Haytham. I feel that is the only way to describe the man.

We both act as if nothing happened the previous night. It is just as well. I don't want Father to think too much about my weakest moment. I am far too proud to even consider what Father really thinks of the incident. I groan just thinking about it, I'm sure he thinks I'm a crybaby now.

"Are you going to join me for breakfast, or is it against some Assassin tenet to consume food?" Father asks as he pokes his head in the room. I look at him and make a point to dramatically roll my eyes, rolling my whole head with the motion.

"I am okay. Feel free to eat without me," I say.

"Oh, thank you for the permission." Father leaves once again. I sigh. I wish I could feel something for Father. Anything at all. I honestly liked feeling close to him, even in that brief moment we shared. Now I feel...nothing.

I lay on my back on the bed and sigh heavily. Maybe I can try and love Father. After all, I know now he has it in him to be caring. He isn't a _complete_ asshole. Not always, anyway. He was there when I needed him, and that is all that matters. For now.

I don't know how long I've laid here, lost in thought. It isn't long, however, before Father reenters the room. I look at him and then back at the ceiling.

"What are you doing?" Father asks.

"Thinking," I reply simply.

"What about?"

"Life."

"Life, you say?"

"Yes."

"Well, unless you're busy meditating, I suggest we be off. We have a good travel ahead." I sit up and stretch. I wince at my back popping, then begin putting on my weapons. I straighten out the bed and stand up.

"I am ready."

"Oh, no you are not."

"I am not?"

"Your hair is a complete mess. Fix it this instant." My hands go up to my hair. I had left it in its half ponytail last night, and now it is a wadded mess. I sigh and pull out the band that holds my hair up. I sit down and run his fingers through my hair.

 **Haytham POV**

I look down at Connor and frown. There is that damn feeling of affection again. Last night, Connor was quick to go to me for comfort. I thought there would be a shift in our relationship, but Connor acts like it never happened. A shame, I liked that feeling of having Connor hugging me, desperate for comfort that I could give him. It made me feel important to him.

I have to admit it. It's love I feel. I cannot run away from that forever. I love Connor, after last night there is no denying it. If only it makes a difference. It is a true shame, there are few people in my life I ever truly loved, but especially these days.

"Is this sufficient for you?" Connor asks as he looks at me.

"Oh, yes. Come now," I say as I turn to go. I hear the gentle footsteps of Connor behind me.

We ride out of the city without another word. We ride side by side through the frontier, except to make room for another horseman heading the opposite direction. Though it is clear that Connor is leading, despite rarely being ahead. I am okay with following his lead, he knows his was around the forest much better than I.

My horse begins to get nervous. I look around, seeing no threat. What is the issue? I look at my son, and both he and his horse are unbothered. Perhaps mine is going crazy.

My horse rears back, and if it isn't for me gripping its neck, I would fall off. Connor looks over with his eyebrows raised. I just hold on and try to calm the animal. Soon it stops and stands still. I release my tight hold.

"What-" I begin right before the horse bucks once more. This time it succeeds, and I land on my arse. The horse takes off running. "Bloody hell." Connor looks at me. And his eyes open wide.

"Do not make a sudden move," Connor warns as he slowly turns his horse.

"Why?"

"Just do as I say." Connor crouches on the horse's back. I felt warmth just behind my head. I slowly turn my head to look...

And look right into the big eyes of a bear. I gasp and crawl backwards. The beast growls and goes to attack me. I know I'm vulnerable and can't defend myself. I cover my face with my arms to protect it.

When I don't feel teeth sinking into my flesh, despite the growling that has intensified, I look. Connor is on the back of the bear, stabbing it in the neck and back. Soon the beast dies. He skins it quickly, but not before muttering in Mohawk. He then stands and approaches me. When he reaches me, he squats so he's at eye level with me.

"Are you hurt?" He asks.

"No, no, I'm fine," I say, clearing my throat. Connor stands upright and offers his hand. I accept it and let him help me to my feet. I brush the dust off myself, feeling slightly undignified as I have to brush off my rear as well.

"I told you no sudden moves. I could have killed it without such a hassle if you had not provoked it. Or worse, you could have gotten your arm ripped off!" Connor says.

"I know, son. But I'm fine, am I not?"

"Yeah, thanks to me. You're welcome."

"Yeah, yeah." I roll my eyes. "Now, there is a matter about a horse, since mine so kindly ran off." Connor frowns, and I rest my hands on my hips. I look at the trees in thought, and I see him looking down at his shoes.

"I do not know, Father. Perhaps there is somewhere near we can acquire one." I'm only half listening, though, focusing more on what I see ahead.

"Son, we have a problem."

"What?"

"There are four bears coming our way." Connor looks where I am, and sighs.

"New plan. Get on my horse and run."

"I am not leaving you here alone with those bears!"

"I can handle them, it would just be easier if I wasn't babysitting you." I glare at him.

"Fine. Be careful."

"Of course. Now go!" I sigh, then mount Connor's horse. With a spur, I take off.

I do not ride far. I pace back and forth, Connor's horse eating happily nearby. I sigh and look back in the direction I came. Is Connor coming? Should I go back?

The decision made, I mount the horse again, and take off back to where I left my son. Surely, I have waited long enough, and by now he is finished with those bears. That, or they're done with him. I shudder at the thought.

I make it back, seeing the bodies, already skinned, laying about. Connor is kneeling by the final one, skinning it as well. I feel a wave of relief. I'm glad Connor is skinning them, rather than them skinning him.

"Hello, Father," Connor says nonchalantly as he works, not even looking at me.

"Do not act as though you've not kept me waiting who knows how long, wondering if you were bear food! What if you were dead?" I say, outraged. I dismount and approach my son.

"I am so sorry for wasting so much of your precious time killing these bears. Next time I will simply let them snack on your arm." He stands up and faces me.

"Yeah right, you wouldn't do that."

"You are absolutely right. Wouldn't want them to get a liking to the taste of human flesh."

"You're lucky they aren't snacking on you!"

"It is not luck. I do not believe in luck, just my own skill. But I am glad you are so concerned with my wellbeing that you're throwing a fit."

"I am not throwing a fit. Besides, why couldn't you have gotten on the horse with me and escaped instead of wasting time?"

"I find hunting rather calming, which is something I need when spending so much time around you." I scoff.

"Look, I'm through arguing. Are you ready yet?"

"Yes, but you are not."

"Oh?"

"You have no horse."

"Oh…" Connor looks away. Why does he look so timid sometimes?

"We could share, if you wish."

"Well, that would make the most sense."

"Okay. Get on behind me."

"And who are you to be giving the orders?"

"The one with the horse." I sigh. Connor is right.

I hate it when Connor is right.

"So, how are things? I've not seen you in a while. In fact, I haven't heard much about you either. Where have you been?"

"At sea."

"I still think it's a bloody miracle you get off that boat live, not to mention that you came to captain it."

"Boat? What boat?"

"Your boat."

"The only boat I have is a rowboat, and one can't really captain one of those."

"Oh my, you sound like my father. I mean your _ship_." He looks at me over his shoulder.

"Oh, my ship! Well I'll have you know I make an excellent captain."

"Mhmm. Of course you do."

"Die slowly." The way his eyes are twinkling, and the ghost of a smile that is on his face, I know he's joking.

"Make me."

"You want me to murder you? Because that could be arranged."

"Arranged, you say?"

"Yeah, there is a lot of paperwork to go with it. Maybe you should contact my secretary." I laugh heartily, and Connor turns his head back in front of him, but not before I see a smile.

"You're ridiculous, boy." I still am chuckling, that's the closest thing to a joke I think I'll ever hear from him. He shakes his head.

"So, if you do not mind me asking, what brings you to Boston? Besides stalking me, what were you up to?"

"I actually have a home in Boston, it's my primary residence. Where I spend my time, anyway."

"What about England? Do you still have a place there?"

"Not anymore. I doubt I'll ever return."

"Do you have family there?"

"Well, my father was murdered when I was young. My mother sent me away and died a few years after that. My sister and I do not get along very well, we have little in common."

"Oh." He fell really quiet after that, and I find myself wondering what he's thinking about. But after about ten minutes of, admittedly, awkward silence, I speak up.

"You know, when we parted ways, I didn't think we'd ever see each other again."

"I was afraid we would."

"Oh?"

"You know, eventually we will kill each other, right?"

"You've accepted this as fact?"

"I have."

"And what if there is another way?"

"Let's face it. The only way we can avoid killing each other is if one of us changes sides. And you know as well as I do that'll never happen."

"Never say never…"

"You just said never twice within that sentence, so I'm going to disregard that." I chuckle and pat Connor's back, and he smiles at me faintly over his shoulder.

"Son, how old are you?" He looks at me with one eyebrow raised.

"You really don't know?"

"Well I know you're young. But it depends on your birthday as to whether you're 20 or 21."

"21. My birthday is in April."

"Okay, but in case you hadn't noticed it's April now. You must have just had your birthday, since it's only the fourth. What day?"

"Coincidentally, the fourth. Why is this important?"

"Can I not know when my son was born?"

"I did not think you cared."

"Of course you didn't, you never think I care."

"Well, you do not."

"Don't tell me if I care or not."

"Don't tell me what to do."

"No, we aren't arguing."

"You are right, I am sorry." I sigh.

"Happy birthday, by the way. You should have just said it was today."

"Thank you, Father. I find it funny that you would ask on my birthday. An odd coincidence."

"You know, most people don't celebrate their birthday by tracking down thieves."

"Most people are not Assassins, either."

"Touché. Yet I find it ridiculous that even someone as serious as you would choose to not relax on such an occasion. And what of Achilles, does he not wish to do anything in celebration of your birthday?"

"He would when I was younger. But I'm not often there on my birthday, and besides neither of us are big on festivities of any sort. I am perfectly happy with no more than a happy birthday wish, and he knows it."

"Still. Were it me, I would make a point to do something."

"Then for once I am glad we do not have a normal relationship."

"Oh, come now. You cannot honestly expect me to believe that you don't like being treated special on your birthday."

"I do not enjoy a fuss being made over me, no."

"Not even once a year?"

"No."

"But-"

"I said, no. Now please, drop it?"

"Of course, son." For now, anyway. But the gears are already turning in my head.


	7. Chapter 7

**Here we are with Chapter 7! I apologize if it's a bit boring, it's serving as a filler chapter. But the two Kenways will be back in action next chapter!**

 **Connor POV**

Father and I rented another room together, since it had taken us nearly the whole day to travel here. He went out to do some digging, and I must admit I am pleased that he volunteered to help. He even insisted I stay here, saying that he worried I would be exhausting myself. Which I'll admit, after being tormented last night with nightmares, then fighting that family of bears today, he is not wrong.

I actually find myself sleeping, even though I must admit it is very light. When Father returns, even though he is quiet, I still awake to the sound of the door and his gentle footsteps. I sit up and rub my eyes, then stretch a bit. I don't look at him, not yet.

"Son, I see you took my advice and rested. The day is still young though, and I have something for you," he says, sitting down at the small round table in the center of the room. I look at him with tired eyes.

"What is it?" I ask.

"Come look." I sigh and get up, wondering what trick he has up his sleeve. I approach him, then stop when I see what's on the table. I look at him, knowing that shock is clear on my face.

"What is this?" I ask as though it's not obvious. A small cake sits on a white plate on the table. It is iced with blue icing, and in green says 'Happy 21st'.

"It… looks like a cake to me, son." I roll my eyes.

"I know what it is, Father. What is it for?"

"I think you know that answer as well, and I know you can read."

"Okay, wise guy. What I mean is, why did you get it?"

"Because this is your first birthday I've spent with you, and I couldn't just do nothing for it. For _you_. It means something to me, even if it doesn't to you." I can't fight the smile on my face, and mumble under my breath. "What's that?"

"Nothing… just that I hope it isn't the last." He smiles as well.

"I'm glad you feel that way."

"Still, you should not have done this. In fact, I asked you not to."

"Well, it appears I listen to you as well as you do to me." I just chuckle.

"Touché. Well, since you went to the trouble of getting a cake, are we going to eat it?"

"After you, my boy."

I sit down next to Father, then pick up the knife that sits next to the cake. I begin cutting it, smiling as his hand rests on my shoulder fondly. It's easy to like him sometimes, I decide. In a different world, where Assassins and Templars don't exist, he would have made a good father.

"I did do some digging as promised, though," Father says as we each eat our cake. Briefly the thought of him poisoning this crosses my mind, but only after I've taken a bite. But he's eating it too, I think, and decide to try and have some trust in him.

"And?" I ask before taking another bite. The cake turned out to be chocolate, which pleases me. I love chocolate.

"I've arranged to meet one of my contacts tomorrow about it, he keeps up with the goings on quite well, especially in the criminal world."

"Do you think he'll have information?"

"I'm not completely sure, but he is our best bet. A couple people I talked to tonight recommended I speak to him, so I sent them to arrange a meeting."

"I suppose you expect me to sit around here waiting for your return?"

"Nonsense, you can come along." I raise my eyebrows.

"I can? Even though I'm the known enemy? I thought our partnership is a secret."

"It is. I don't mind revealing it to this person, though. I am going to need to go ahead and warn them, though, just so things stay in control."

"I see. That sounds fine. When do we go, then?"

"First thing in the morning, probably close to sunup."

"Okay." I finish my cake and put the plate on the table.

"How was it?"

"The cake? It was quite good."

"I was concerned, I don't know if you like chocolate or not."

"I… I love chocolate."

"Do you? Interesting."

"Why is that interesting?"

"I also love it, I used to ask my father to take me to this chocolate place back home all the time."

"That sounds nice. I wasn't introduced to it until Achilles brought me to town one day. It was the most delightful smell, and he treated me to some. Ever since then, he had to be careful about having it around the house. In my teenage years I devoured it."

"It's good to know we have that in common, then."

"I suppose." He sighs.

"Well, son, I'm going to turn in. You should too."

"Okay, Father. Goodnight."

"Goodnight." He and I went to our respective beds.

"Father?" I say after he lays down.

"Hm?"

"Thank you."

"Of course, son."

When I wake up the next morning, Father is getting ready to leave. I notice him eating some more of the cake and smile a bit. He definitely has a sweet tooth. I like learning little things like that about him.

"Connor. Good morning," he says.

"Morning," I say, or more like mumble. I am not a morning person.

"Still tired?"

"A bit, I suppose. I see you made a healthy choice for breakfast." He smiles as he looks at his three-fourths eaten piece of cake.

"If it helps, I usually do eat better."

"But the cake was too much to resist?"

"Can you blame me?" I shrug.

"I suppose not. Are we about to leave?"

"Yes. I figured I might go ahead and meet you there."

"Do you really think that is necessary? I can just go with you. It won't be a big deal." He frowns.

"I don't know. I suppose you can, but before we leave I need you to promise me something."

"Okay, what is it?"

"No matter what, you cannot attack him, hurt him, or even threaten him. I need you on your best behavior." I roll my eyes. I was beginning to think we made progress, yet here he is talking to me like a child.

"That goes without saying, Father."

"I'm serious, I want you to promise."

"Why?"

"Humor me."

"Fine! I promise."

"Okay. I am ready when you are."

"Just let me fix my fair and put my weapons on." He nods.

After a few minutes, we head out. We both mount a horse, and I follow him through the city. We ride for what feels like forever in silence, and I begin to notice the buildings becoming less frequent. We are now surrounded by the stench of farm animals, and we pause outside one of the farms.

"Is this where he lives?" I ask, scrunching my nose. There are pigs, cows, and goats all around, and it smells like it.

"No. A friend lives here, one completely uninvolved in the Assassin and Templar battle. I felt it best this way," he answers.

"So you don't trust me." He hesitates.

"I'm sorry, son. But you will understand in a moment." We then enter the property, riding through the fields.

He looks at me over his shoulder as we dismount. We stop in front of a little white house, with the paint wearing down on it. We approach it, me behind Father, and he knocks on the door.

After a few moments, a man about my height but incredibly thin opens the door. He's dressed in dirty clothes, and I resist scrunching my nose at his smell, which matches the rest of the property. He smiles at the sight of Father.

"Haytham! Good to see you!" he says, much too eagerly for my liking. Father smiles.

"Hello, Lucas. Good to see you as well. This is my son, Connor," Father says, and once again I feel shocked at this introduction. It's one thing to say so to mercenaries who wound up dead anyway, but to a friend of his?

"Good to meet you, Connor. Name's Lucas," the man said, extending a dirty hand. I get over myself and shake it anyway.

"Nice to meet you, sir," I say as politely as I can.

"Please, won't you come in?"

"Thank you. Come along, Connor," Father says, and I follow the two.

"He's in the kitchen at the moment. Would either of you care for tea?"

"No, thank you. We won't be here long, I'm afraid."

"No problem. Here we are." I look into the kitchen and feel my blood boil.

"You have got to be kidding me. _He_ is our contact?!" I say, almost shouting. Charles Lee opens his eyes wide at the sight of me.

"Sir, you have some explaining to do," Charles said. "When you said you weren't coming alone, this is not what I expected!" I remain unmoving in the doorway, scowling at Charles.

"Connor, why don't you come sit down? We have some discussions to do," Father says.

"Sit down? At the same table as this… this monster? I should kill him!" I say, enraged.

"But you won't. You promised." Dammit, I did. It makes sense now.

"I should not have come here. I can't believe you'd do this!"

"Connor, lower your voice. You are behaving like a child."

"You betrayed me! How do I know this isn't a plan to kill me?"

"I could have killed you last night in your sleep if that was my plan. Or the night before. Or on your ship."

"False, you know as well as I do if you tried anything on my ship you would have died."

"Can we please discuss why you're even working with the enemy?" Charles asks.

"You zip it, I'm still not convinced that I won't slit your throat right here," I growl at Charles.

"Hey! That is enough, boy. Sit down. Both of you," Father says.

"Why?"

"Because I said so, Connor. Sit." I glare daggers at Father. "Do I need to drag you?" I growl but comply. "You as well, Charles." Lee looks at me warily.

"If I was planning to kill you, Lee, I would have," I say.

"Connor."

"What?"

"What happened to no threats?"

"That wasn't a threat!"

"I disagree."

"Like I care what you think."

"Charles, please. He gave me his word earlier he would do you no harm. Just sit."

"Who's to say he'll keep his word?" Charles asks.

"I trust him."

"Oh, you trust him? How long have you been working together?"

"He helped me find Church."

"Why?"

"I needed help."

"Liar."

"Fine, so I didn't _need_ help. But he made it go a lot quicker. I had been working on finding him too long and grew tired of it."

"So you decided to team up with our greatest enemy?"

"Well…."

"Well what? You should have killed him the second you got a chance!"

"Maybe I couldn't!" I raise my eyebrows and look at Father. Thinking back on that day at the church, I know he very well could have. Or… does he mean he couldn't bring himself to…?

"Why not?"

"Well… I…" I've never seen Father at a loss for words. This must be a hard discussion.

"You don't even have a reason? No explanation?" Father is quiet for several moments. When he does speak, it's barely a whisper.

"He's my son, Charles."

"Wait, what?" Charles looks at me. "Oh. It's hers, isn't it? The native woman you ran away with?"

"Yes."

"Um, "it"?" I interject.

"I knew he looked familiar…" Charles says, ignoring me. "Still, that's no reason. No excuse. He may be your son, but he is still the enemy. I cannot say I support this, even a little. Sir."

"Well, I don't need you to support it. What I do is my business," Father says.

"I think you know as well as I do that keeping him alive is enabling him to tear us apart even further."

"That's why I wanted him here though, to try and figure out how bad things are between the two of you, and maybe…"

"No. No way. I hate this man, I will never forgive him or learn to tolerate him," I say. "Do not bother trying to make it happen."

"Oh, boy, don't think the feeling isn't mutual," Charles snarls.

"Enough," I say, standing back up. "Father and I are in a hurry, if you don't mind I have no wish to stay in the same room as you, Charles, since I did promise not to hurt you. Will you just get off Father's back and give us the information we came for?"

"You're lucky I have enough respect for your father not to finish you right now!"

"Oh, that is rich. If you dared come after me, especially for my life, promise or no promise I would kill you."

"Yeah right, you can barely take care of yourself. I have no doubt that I could handle you."

"Oh, is that a fact? Why don't you ask Johnson, Pitcairn, or even Hickey about what happens when you mess with me?"

"Connor!" Father says. "That is enough out of both of you. Sit your asses down." I huff but obey. Charles sits as well, though more tentatively. We maintain eye contact the whole time. Father joins us.

"This discussion is not over, Haytham," Charles says.

"Yes, you can chew my ear off later. For now, shall we be on to business?"

"Yes, dear contact of ours, what secrets might you share? Or do you know anything at all?" I say.

"Son," Father says, the scolding tone of his voice saying more than even he could in words.

"Sorry. For the record, I'm apologizing to you, Father, not Lee." He rolls his eyes.

"Anyway, what do you know of a band of thieves based here?"

"You'll have to be more specific than that. This is New York, after all, it's crawling with thieves," Charles says.

"Well, Connor, this is your mission. Why don't you give the details?" I glare at him.

"Fine. From what I've learned, they work for the British. Stealing supplies to sell to them. Kind of like what Church was doing, except they're also robbing innocents," I say. "According to my sources, they've been known to use some fairly advanced poison, killing anyone in their way indiscriminately."

"Perhaps I know what you're talking about, I've heard about these thieves that are doing the same," Charles says.

"What do you know of it?"

"Well, I can give you a location. A general area, anyway."

"That's a start," Father says.

"They are going to be found North of here, in an old abandoned warehouse. I'm told it's near a windmill, though specifically where is unclear."

"Well then, that's where we begin our search. Come along, Connor. Thank you, Charles."

"Don't think I'm done talking to you about this, Haytham." I roll my eyes and get up.

"Unless I'm mistaken, he's in charge of your Order, so he doesn't really owe you an explanation," I say, then turn to go. Father looks after me, slightly baffled. "Are you coming?" He sighs and follows. I must admit, I am proud of myself for staying my hand. I hope Father understands what a sacrifice I made on his behalf. Sparing Lee was a hard decision, and one I'm sure I'll come to regret.


	8. Chapter 8

**Hello again! Here's the next chapter, as always hope you enjoy!**

 **Connor POV**

We exit the house that we had just met Lee at and mount our horses without a word. We begin riding in the direction Charles sent us, and I feel Father staring at me. I look at him over my shoulder, eyebrows raised.

"What?" I say.

"You're mad at me," he replies.

"Duh. You know how I feel about Charles."

"I know. I guess I am hoping to get the two of you used to each other."

"I have no desire to get used to him, thank you."

"Come on, Connor. I'm trying to lay the groundwork for something more permanent."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I would be lying if I said I didn't enjoy working with you. I just fear that what we have won't last, though, and I don't want to have to kill you. I certainly don't want you to kill me." I huff and look away.

"I do not ever want to work with that man, though. Being in the same room as him is enough to make my blood boil."

"I know, though I don't understand why."

"Well, it doesn't help that when I was only four he and a couple of your men came near my village when I was out playing and interrogated me."

"I think you don't quite mean interrogated."

"Yes, I do. They laughed at me, tripped me when I tried to run away, and then Charles pinned me to a tree— by my throat, might I add— and told me that me and mine were useless. Then when I still didn't tell them what they wanted, one of them knocked me out. Alone. In the forest. I woke up with a concussion, then found my village on fire."

"So that's why you think it was us…."

"Think? Charles Lee killed my mother. And I am still convinced, despite what you claim, that it was by your order."

"I told you, I gave no such order. They should not have even been there at all. But I can promise you they did not start the fire."

"All I have to say is that finding out he is a Templar is mere convenience, the more I learn about him the more I hate him. But he is a perfect example of why your claims that all would be equal under you is just a dream. He, a Templar himself, attacked a small child in the forest and left me to die. Would he have done so if I was white?"

"Son, please. I'm sure that is not why—"

"Spare me. His speech that day tells me otherwise."

"Speech?"

"Yes, he went on and on about how me and my people were worthless, stuck in the old ways and too stubborn and stupid to conform to the 'true ways of the world'."

"Oh."

"Exactly." He sighed.

"This displeases me. I wish I had known."

"Why? So you could scold him and then move on like it never happened?"

"Son, I—"

"Look, I'm through with this discussion. And as luck would have it, I think we found the place." I climb the nearest and tallest tree to affirm my belief. I pull out my spyglass, grateful to Mr. Faulkner for recommending I keep one for all my missions, not just naval.

In front of us is yet another large plot of land. There appears to be a few farm animals here as well, though the crops definitely outnumber them. There are a variety of different plants, things such as corn and wheat. In the back is a large windmill, white but faded, standing strong. There are a couple barns and even a house or two, but one thing stands out to me: a warehouse that is surrounded by guards and is way too large and industrial for a farm like this. The guards surrounding it, when my Sight is activated, glow an angry red.

"Well? Do you see anything?" Father asks.

"Yes. It looks like the right place. I can see a warehouse up ahead, by a windmill like Charles said," I reply, not bothering to hide the venom in my voice at the mention of Charles. "Plus, there are way too many guards around for a farm. Mercs, from the looks of it. Although…" I focus my spyglass on the west end of the property.

"Yes?"

"Regulars. A whole bunch of them, headed on to the property. They're headed directly to the warehouse."

"Well, then let's stop some thieves, shall we?"

"Let's." I put the spyglass away and join him.

We both crouch in some conveniently placed bushes, and sneak onto the farm. After we creep a few feet, the bushes come to an end. To the right there is a haystack, and to the left is a pile of leaves. There are some mercenaries pacing back and forth nearby them. Father gestures to the haystack, and I nod in understanding.

When there's a second that the guards are looking away, we each take off. Hiding in our respective hiding spot, we wait. When the guards pass by, they stop to talk, one teasing the other about their hat. Simultaneously Father and I leap halfway out the hiding spots, covering the mouth of our targets and stabbing them with hidden blades before dragging them into the pile with us. We then each exit, and while I don't bother with the hay stuck to me, Father brushes the leaves off himself indignantly. I roll my eyes.

We continue on in this manner, taking out foes silently. I must say, I am impressed with his stealth skills. I thought he would be either out of practice from making others do is bidding, careless because he thinks himself invincible, or just rusty from age. I don't claim to know how old he is, but sometimes he seems quite old to me. Maybe that's just my thinking as a barely 21-year-old.

Finally, we reach the warehouse. He sends me to scope out the place, see if I can find a way in that is discreet. I do not mind, normally him sending me off to do the work for him is irritating, but this way I don't have to trust his opinion. I creep around the building, taking a mental note of the guards and their locations, windows, doors, and hiding spots. I return to Father, looking around to make sure no one will hear us talking.

"Well?" he whispers.

"Well, we have two options. There is a back door we can enter through, it is locked but should be easy enough to pick. Or there is a window on the East side, with a good path to climb up. I recommend we take that route, but either we can get to easy enough without encountering too many guards," I say. I look around once more, double checking that no one hears us. I look back at him.

"Good work." I force myself not to grin. It wouldn't kill him to utter those words more. "Well, son, I have no problem entering through the window, if that's what you think is the best choice. You are the one who saw the options, after all."

"Okay. Then follow me." I turn back toward the warehouse, looking around one last time to make sure the coast is clear, then take off to the next hiding spot.

I hear Father's footsteps, quiet as they are, behind me. He joins me in the hiding place, which is another thick bush. I continue into some overgrown grass, careful not to move too quickly so I don't disturb it enough to draw attention. Finally, we reach the end of the grass as well. There is a clearing between here and the building, and two guards nearby. I look both ways, assuring it's just the two, before shooting them both with poison darts. I'm not too fond of them, but it seems fitting. Once they collapse, I sprint to the building and scale it with ease.

I sit on the window ledge, looking for a spot to jump to. I see some rafters just ahead and jump to one of them. Father joins me, and we look down. I look at him, and he sighs. Below us is a bunch of supplies that varies from food to clothing to weapons. Some of which I'm sure was provided from the farm, but not all of it. On a table there are also three bottles, each containing varying colored liquids.

"Thanks for coming by, gents. Tell the general he will not regret our services. We have got all the food to last three winters, and the clothes to keep you warm through it. We also have something special to show you," one of the men says.

"And what would that be?" a redcoat asks.

"Something we've been working on that'll be sure to give you an edge in the war. It's superior poison." I look back at Father, who is frowning.

"Well, that should be interesting. Let's see what you have to offer."

They all walk toward the table I noticed earlier, and the man who was talking before picked up a bottle. He looks around at the redcoats, making sure they're listening. He smiles before speaking.

"This one is my personal favorite. I must say, though I'm sure it goes without saying, that you should be extremely careful when handling this. It can cause a group of soldiers to drop dead within seconds. Don't be fooled by its liquid form, it's extremely explosive. If thrown like a smoke bomb, it'll create a gas that will kill anyone within range, and if it's shot or caught on fire a similar effect will be seen." The looks on the redcoat's faces must be comical to the man, because he chuckles. But honestly, I'm sure my own face resembles theirs.

"Father, we cannot let the recoats get their hands on such a poison. It would be the end of the war," I whisper.

"Agreed. Not that I want this on the streets, either. Hundreds of innocents could die," he replies just as quietly.

"What should we do?"

"Well, we have a few options. We could wait it out and see what else they have, go down there and kill them all except the dealer and interrogate him, or just shoot the poison and let their own concoction be their demise." I ponder this.

"Well, who's to say we can't do a combination thereof?"

"How do you mean?"

"Listen in a bit longer, as you said. Then go down there and kill the regulars and interrogate the dealer. Then shoot the poison to handle any reinforcements that the commotion may cause."

"Well, aren't you smart?"

"You don't have to patronize me, Father. Do you approve of that or not?"

"Of course, son." I roll my eyes and look back down.

"Now, we also have a poison here that works like normal poison, just a lot faster. You poison someone with this and they'll drop right away," the man continues. He sets that bottle down and picks up another, the last on the table. "This one here is a berserk poison, it'll cause your enemies to attack each other, and then die." I frown. This is awful.

"You weren't kidding. With this, we'll win the war for sure," a redcoat says.

"That's the idea. Tell your general about this, and we'll mass produce it if he's interested."

"Oh, I'm sure he will be."

"Do you suppose we've heard enough?" I ask Father.

"Quite. Let's end this." I open my mouth to ask him what tactic he has in mind, but before I say anything he drops down, assassinating someone. I sigh.

"I don't suppose _anyone_ will be speaking to the general," Father says.

"Oh? You're one man against a platoon of trained soldiers," the dealer says as people point their guns at Father.

"Not quite."

"You and what army, then?"

"Not quite an army either, but close enough. It would be wonderful if my backup were to come though, Connor." I roll my eyes, then assassinate one of the guards a distance from Father. The distraction I provide gives him the chance to start fighting, and we work our way toward each other.

"What a brilliant idea this was, Father. We could have gone about this much better," I say once I reach him.

"I didn't hear you making any suggestions. Duck!" I comply without thinking, and he swings his sword over my head, cutting someone's throat before they reach me.

"You did not give me a chance to speak!" I hiss as I stand back up, just after rolling to stab someone in the back with my tomahawk.

"You should think quicker, then."

"You are so irritating." He shoots over my shoulder, and at the same time I shoot my arrow over his. With those two dead, we are left with only the dealer.

"Yet you still asked me to join you." He wipes the blood off his sword.

"Just because you are irritating doesn't mean you aren't useful." He smiles.

"Well then I suppose I should make sure I don't outlive my usefulness." I roll my eyes again, and we approach the dealer, who is cowering on the ground.

"What do you want?" he says, or more like whimpers. Not so tough now that he doesn't have soldiers guarding him.

"Go on, Connor. This is your mission," Father says.

"I think we both know how well I do at the talking part," I say with a frown, thinking of the man at the cart. He smiles, surely remembering the same.

"Fine, I'll save you the embarrassment." He faces the man. "Who do you work for?"

"That's kind of complicated," he says.

"Then you should start talking."

"I've got nothing to say to you."

"Oh, is that a fact? Maybe I should force you to talk then."

"Do your worst, I ain't spilling." Father sighs and looks at me.

"Secure the doors, make sure no one will be able to enter. I may draw some attention."

"How?" I ask, looking at him uneasily.

"Never mind that, we haven't got time. Go secure the doors as best you can." I frown, but nod. We really don't have the time, even though I'm worried. I go to complete my task, then make my way back to Father. When I do, he's got the man tied up.

"It is done, I blocked the doors with crates and locked the doors. They may have a key, but it'll slow them down. Just make it quick," I say. Father nods, then turns to the man.

"Well, perhaps we can start simple. What is your name?"

"Isaac Brannon," he says nervously.

"Good. Tell me, Isaac, are there other places like this one?"

"N-no."

"You don't quite sound certain."

"I... I am!"

"Then why are you hesitant?" He doesn't answer, so Father raises his sword and points it. "Well?"

"Just because there aren't exactly others like this one, per se, but I'm not alone." He gasps. "I shouldn't have said that."

"Oh, you're doing fine. Why don't you elaborate?"

"No." Father sighs. He slowly circles around the Isaac, who eyes him nervously. I am nervous as well.

"Come now, I don't wish to do this in front of my boy."

"Then don't. But I already said too much."

"Oh, I beg to differ. You've not said enough."

"You'll get no more from me." Father looks at me hesitantly, but then looking back at the man quickly flicks his wrist, cutting the man's arm. I gasp, more shocked than Isaac.

"Well?"

"You'll have to do worse than that. And from your boy's reaction, I don't think you'll be able to go far enough to get me to talk."

"Oh, he won't like it, but I'll do what it takes."

"Father—" I begin, but his look cuts me off.

"It must be done, son." He turns back to Isaac.

"Connor, right?" Isaac says. I look at him curiously. "Your father said your name earlier, when you were in the rafters. Come now, boy, are you going to let him torture me?"

"I… uh… I..." I stutter, looking between them.

"If you can't stomach it, son, then you could always go outside," Father says.

"I don't like it, but I think you're right. I see no other way." Father nods.

"So, Isaac, you could talk now and save us all the trouble, or I'll make you talk. Either way, I want information."

"I will not talk," Isaac insists. Father sighs.

"So be it." He circles once more, then cuts Isaac's leg. I frown but am silent. He's not being excessive, and I know it's for my sake. He swings the sword around in the air before slicing into his back. This goes on for maybe five minutes, the cuts getting deeper each time. I feel my stomach churning. I think I'm going to be sick.

"Father?" I say.

"Hm?" he replies.

"It is not working."

"Yet. It will."

"Don't be so certain," Isaac says. Father freezes.

"Alright, that is it. I'm sorry Connor, I was trying to go easy on him for your sake, but I grow tired of this game."

"Wait, you intend to do worse?" I ask.

"Yes." He looks at me. "Go outside."

"But…"

"But nothing. Go." I look at Isaac once last time, then do as I'm told. I climb out the window and go to a hiding spot. I watch the door carefully.

After a few moments, as if Father was waiting to be sure I was gone, I hear Isaac shout. Not very loud, not yet. But it gradually starts getting louder, more intense. Soon it draws the attention of the mercenaries, who rush to the front door. They go to open it, but of course it is locked. From here I can hear arguing about the whereabouts of the key. I go over there and start fighting them to stall for more time.

 **Haytham POV**

I look at the bloody figure in front of me as he spills his knowledge. I've heard fighting out front for the past ten minutes, Connor is really trying to buy me time. I can barely hear Isaac above the sound of swords clashing outside, so I'm crouching just in front of my target.

"I work for a group who pays us to produce this poison. They've given me permission to sell to the British, though they personally are neutral in the war," he says.

"And what does this group call themselves?" I ask.

"I don't know. I'm only a mercenary, just like everyone else here. They pay me, so I say yes. Never seen a face."

"Are there any other bases like this one?"

"No, I don't think. We aren't entirely working for them though, we also have been selling supplies to the redcoats as well as stealing and selling what we have for profit. In that respect, we are entirely independent. But those I serve are very secretive."

"And how do you receive your commands?"

"By letter, there is never a return address. The one time I've contacted them was through a courier they sent."

"Is there anything you do know about them?"

"Just that they know about your kind."

"My kind?"

"Templars. Your Assassin son, too."

"Interesting. Do they have ill will towards either of us?"

"Not in particular, they know you're dangerous, and have killed members from each before. But they care little about your war."

"So you really made me torture you so for this small amount of information?"

"They would have my head if they found out I talked!"

"Well, that's not something you need worry about then."

"Why's that?"

"Because you'll be too dead." I stand up and cut his throat. What a waste. "Connor, it's time for our retreat!" I sigh, the fighting still loud as ever.

I suppose I didn't hear them at the back door over the commotion, but it flies open. The mercenaries look around and, seeing all the dead bodies and only me remaining, figure out what happened. They point their guns. Instead of raising my hands, I shoot the poison that was said to be explosive. As promised, a green smoke begins to fill the building. They begin coughing, and I sprint to the window. The gas follows me out, and I think to light a match and throw it in, setting the place to flames. I run around front, covering my mouth as I see the gas seeping through the crack in the door, causing the others to cough.

My son included. I roll my eyes and grab him, dragging him away from the burning building. I pretty much drag him all the way off the property, and we are completely ignored by the mercenaries. They're too worried about the fire to care about us. We get off the land and he finally has gained some composure. We mount our horses and ride away.

"Are you okay, son?" I ask him as we slow our pace, riding into town.

"I guess," he replies, but he doesn't sound enthused.

"Look, if you're upset about the torture—"

"If? You know how I feel about that!"

"You said yourself there was no other way." He sighs and looks away.

"Did you at least find out anything useful?"

"No. He apparently works for some group of secretive people who told him nothing except how to make the poison. He never even saw a face."

"Then there wasn't even a point!"

"How could I have known?"

"I guess you couldn't have. It makes it feel all the worse, though. Were they at least the only thieves?"

"Yes, he said that was independent of their masters."

"Good, at least that whole thing wasn't a complete waste of time and death."

"I'm sorry, son."

"Don't. I'm going home, Father."

"Goodbye Connor. Travel safe."

"You as well." He spurs his horse and departs, leaving me alone to my thoughts.

I'm glad I sent him away. If he had seen what I'd done or how the man looked, I don't know if he would even want to look at me. Am I really the monster he thinks I am?


	9. Chapter 9

**Alright ya'll, here is the next chapter! It's not as exciting as some others, but I really wanted to let Connor just chill. Not to worry, there is a little action, and the next chapter will have plenty! Hope ya'll enjoy, and as always please review!**

 **Connor POV**

I ride into Boston, in need of some more supplies. Achilles sent me with a list of things for him as well, and I sigh looking at it. I'll always be an errand boy to him. I enter the general store, and am surprised, pleasantly so, at who I see.

"Hey! Connor, right?" Emily, the girl I rescued back in New York, greets.

"Yeah. Hi Emily," I reply with a smile as wide as hers. I purchase what I need before she speaks again.

"How are things?"

"Fine, fine. How about for you?"

"It's been crazy lately. This war has made us have more customers than ever, but made it harder to get the supplies we need to sell."

"Sounds tough."

"It is, but we are doing well. Say, what is it you do for a living, Connor?" I frown. How should I answer?

"Oh, you know, mostly selling hunting goods."

"A hunter. Why am I not surprised?"

"What do you mean by that?" I feel a faint smile creep back on my lips.

"The way you handled yourself back there when you saved me, you must tangle with some pretty tough things."

"Oh, yeah, that. I suppose I do face some pretty nasty foes." Like Templars, but I leave that part out.

"Well, it was nice seeing you here."

"You as well."

"Bye Connor."

"Take care, Emily." I turn to go, but then she catches my arm. I turn and face her.

"Can I ask a favor?"

"What is it?"

"Some thugs robbed our store this morning."

"And you want me to catch them."

"If it's not too much to ask…?"

"Not at all. Should I return it here once I have retrieved it?"

"Yes. If you like, you can come in the back and take a look. You may find a place to start."

Looking in the back room gave me clues, for sure. I just now finished eavesdropping on a final discussion, confirming my beliefs. The thieves had made their way to South Boston, where their base is. And if I'm not mistaken, they're also Templar associates. How convenient.

I mount my horse and ride in the direction the thieves have gone. It is currently an hour or so after sunset, so at this rate I should have the supplies returned by sunrise. After a short ride I make it to an old abandoned warehouse on a large piece of land. Briefly I think about Father and the last mission we were on together that had brought us somewhere similar, nearly three months ago. I do not miss him though. Not… too much.

Shaking him from my mind, I blink on my Eagle Vision. I look around the area, and it matches the descriptions I got from the conversations I overheard. If my sources are correct, I should find the things in the warehouse ahead. I see several people glowing red in my Sight, and I'm convinced this is the place.

I dismount my horse and approach with caution. The area is evidently restricted, so I'll have to sneak inside. Not that that'll be hard. After killing a few guards, as few as possible, I reach the warehouse. Conveniently it's unlocked, which is suspicious, but I enter anyway.

And am met with five muskets pointed in my face.

"What have we here?" one of the guards asks.

"Never seen a Native before?" I ask sarcastically.

"What's your name, savage?"

"It's Connor," someone else says, and I tense. I look, even though I don't have to to recognize that British voice to be Father's. "And I believe we've discussed your choice of words, have we not?" he adds, almost angrily. Did he just… stand up for me?

"Sorry, sir."

"Father? What are you doing here?" I ask.

"I may ask you the same question, though it would be equally as pointless. Truly, you can't be surprised to see me here. Or did you kill my men because you thought this was a tea party?" I frown, keeping eye contact as he walks closer. He hasn't mocked me like that in a while.

"I came here in search of stolen supplies, actually. I only learned these scum worked with the Templars in my investigation. Anyone who has died by my hands tonight has only because they were in the way of me retrieving what does not belong here."

"Oh? And who told you there was stolen goods here?"

"A trusted associate, who happens to be the rightful owner of this stuff." I scan the room, more for show than anything, since I already have looked around. "Although as much stuff as there is here, more people were robbed than I thought."

"And why, pray tell, should I believe your story? After all, these gentlemen and I have been doing business for years, longer than you've been alive. And they know how I feel about involving innocents in our affairs."

"Father, come now. Would I lie to you?"

"Well, Connor, truth is I wouldn't know."

"One way or another, I will return what was stolen. I made a promise I intend to keep." Father sighs, a bit dramatically in my opinion.

"It would appear my work is never done. Gentlemen, I will return. Keep him here, if you can do so without him killing you." He turns and begins to walk the other way.

"Sir? Where are you going?"

"To see what truth there is to his words. Best of luck, boys." With that, he leaves.

"He did not just…" Guard One stammers.

"He did. We're here alone… with the Assassin," says Guard Two.

"Should we shoot him?"

"Boss said—"

"So? He also wished us luck and said the monster might kill us!"

"We have five guns, if he tries anything he won't stand a chance!"

"You've not seen what these Assassins can do," Guard Three says.

"No kidding! Back in my day—" Guard Four begins.

"Hush! This won't help!" Guard Five, the last one, says.

"So what do we do?"

"I vote we shoot him," One says.

"I agree," says Three.

"I mean honestly, what choice do we have?" says Five.

"He ain't done anything yet!" One points out.

"Still… I say we put him down. Help the Templars and ourselves."

"I wouldn't recommend it," I say.

"You hear that, lads? The Injun dog wouldn't recommend it! Just who do you think you are, boy?"

"I am death. You are right to fear me."

"That's it, let's—"

He is cut off by a smoke bomb. As they're coughing, I climb into the rafters, out of sight. Killing them is pointless. They fire into the smoke where I had stood, but when the smoke clears they see I've vanished.

"I don't like this!" Two says.

"Shut up!" says Four.

"He'll kill us one by one!"

"Not me, I'm out!" says Five, and he takes off out the door, the others just behind him.

I land on the ground after they retreat. Cowards, all of them. I walk over to the supplies to see an endless amount of them, most likely stolen to sell to the Templars.

"Where are our friends?" Father asks, and I don't even bother looking at him. I cross my arms and sigh.

"I even tried being cooperative, and still they decided to kill me. So, I scared them away," I answer, finally looking at him over my shoulder.

"Why spare them?"

"They're only mercenaries following orders. My real problem would be taking out whoever is in charge here."

"Except I took the liberty of doing that for you." I raise my eyebrows at him. "I should have believed you, but I didn't want to. Now we have to figure out where all this came from. And I'm out a business partner."

"Tough luck." Father comes and stands next to me, then puts his hand on my shoulder. I've learned he appreciates subtle physical contact like this and it is his way of showing affection, and so I don't deny it.

"You know something, Connor?"

"I know plenty of things." He chuckles and shakes his head.

"You've become quite the smartass. What I was going to say, speaking of partners, that if things had been different you and I would have made good ones. Out of the shadows."

"Well I don't know about you, but I'm taught to work in the dark to serve the light." Father rolls his eyes.

"You are ridiculous, you know exactly what I mean."

"Have you spoken about me to Charles since that day we met?"

"No, I've been avoiding him." I tilt my head in amused curiosity.

"Why?"

"I don't really wish to listen to a speech about how I'm betraying the Order and all it stands for just by keeping you alive, and how I'll have to murder you eventually."

"Oh. So you are ashamed of working with me?"

"Lord, of course not. Would I have revealed our partnership if I was?"

"Honestly, I don't know. You're quite the enigma."

"I don't try to be."

"Well, you are. But enough chat, are you going to help me figure out who all this stuff belongs to?" He pats my shoulder before finally removing his hand.

"Of course, son."

After about three more hours of us returning stolen goods, I make my way to the last stop. I insisted to do this last one myself, and therefore bid Father goodbye. Parting with him has gotten harder, though, for some reason. I do not love him, however. I may be getting a bit attached, but I do not feel love.

"Connor, thank you so much! I owe you big time!' Emily says as I bring her the stolen items.

"Do not mention it. Let me help you bring it all inside," I say.

Once we finally bring it all inside, she sits down on a stool and looks up at me.

"How can I repay you?" she asks.

"There's no need," I reply, leaning against a counter.

"Now, Connor, one thing my father always taught me is to never deny a debt."

"But truly, I did not mind assisting."

"I know! How about I make you breakfast? Surely you're hungry after being out all night searching."

"I would not wish to impose."

"Don't be silly! I want to repay you somehow, it's the least I could do."

"Well, I suppose I cannot deny a good breakfast if you insist."

"I do! I insist!" I smile.

"Then I accept." She grins in reply, and I feel my own smile widening. It feels foreign on my face, yet I cannot help it.

"Come on then! Store won't be open for a couple hours anyway."

She takes my arm and leads me outside. She puts her hand on my shoulder and leans on it as she mounts her horse. Then I go and mount mine. On the way to her house, we engage in some small talk, and I must admit I really enjoy her company.

"Here we are!" she announces. Ahead is a two-story brick house that looks really small for being two stories. There is a small front yard enclosed by a white picket fence, and I realize it looks identical to the neighboring houses. There are only a few things that give it personality of its own.

I dismount my horse, then offer my hand to her. She takes it and lets me help her down, then grabs my arm and enthusiastically leads me inside. I wonder briefly why she's so eager and excited. I wonder if she has many friends.

 **Emily POV**

"Sit down, I'll get started on it," I say as I lead him into the kitchen. I point to the table in the center of the room, and he removes his hood.

"Can I help?" he asks. I look at him with my eyebrows raised.

"This is supposed to be me showing my gratitude to you, I'm not putting you to work."

"But I wouldn't want to just sit here and watch you. Besides, cooking is fun."

"You like to cook?"

"Yes."

"Huh."

"I'm not weird for that!"

"I didn't say you were."

"No, but I see you judging me."

"I'm not!"

"Uh-huh. Sure."

"I swear!"

"Right, believe you completely." I shove him playfully.

"You're mean." He points to himself.

"Me? Never."

"Right. Of course." He grins.

"So are you going to let me help?"

"I guess, wouldn't want to hurt your fragile feelings by saying no." He rolls his eyes, but I see his grin growing. I smile, I can't help thinking he has a nice smile.

"Thank you, you are so thoughtful."

"Duh." We get started cooking, him following my instructions. After several minutes in silence, he speaks.

"You know, it is not so weird that I like cooking. Or even that I can. I know it's common for men not to, but since I have no woman in my life, I have little choice. Plus it was common in my tribe for men to cook too," he says.

"Are we still on this? You know I was kidding," I reply.

"I know, I'm just pointing out that I'm not weird."

"Not in that manner, anyway."

"Hey now! Be careful, you might hurt my fragile feelings." I chuckle. He smiles back at me.

"Oh, poor Connor." He nudges me. I look at him and smile. I barely know him, yet I already enjoy his company so much. "Well, the food is done. Why don't you sit?"

"Yes ma'am." He mock salutes and sits down.

"You are much sassier than I expected. You seemed really reserved before."

"Well, I guess I feel comfortable with you."

"We barely know each other."

"Perhaps, but you're good company. I wouldn't mind it if we become close friends." I smile and turn away, hiding a blush. Truth be told I was attracted to Connor from the second we met, silly as it seems. Knowing he wants to get to know me gives me some hope that one day more may come from a friendship.

"Well, I wouldn't mind either. You seem… tolerable." I smile playfully at him.

"You are so mean."

"I'm sorry, you're just fun to tease."

"If that's how it's gonna be…" I put the plate of food in front of him.

"It is, now eat."

"Wow, bossy aren't we?"

"You bet." I sit down across from him.

"Do you live alone?"

"No, I live with my father. He went out last night though."

"He owns the store, right?"

"Yes. He won't be there to open though, so I'll have to kick you out before long."

"I understand. I will still enjoy the time I am with you. Provided you don't pick on me too much." I smile.

"Don't tempt me." He smiles back.

"Not that I would have to."

"Do you have a last name?" His smile drops instantly.

"No."

"Why?"

"I was not given one."

"Well, I can tell you're only half Native. Are you also white?" He frowns.

"Yes."

"Then one of your parents at least has a last name."

"Yes, my father does."

"Why not take it?"

"Because until a few short months ago I never spoke to the man, never even met him. Now I still only barely tolerate him."

"Oh, that's too bad. Does he not want you to take his name though?" His frown deepens. Maybe I should drop this.

"I do not know, we have not talked about it."

"Why—"

"Emily, please, I really don't want to talk about this."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you." His face softens.

"It is fine."

"Have you ever killed a bear before?" He smiles again, and I sigh in relief.

"I have, the biggest one I ever killed was probably when I was sixteen." I smile again when he dives into a story about it. Subject successfully changed.

 **Connor POV**

After an hour of us talking and enjoying each other's company, she looks at the clock and frowns. I tilt my head and look at her, my gaze asking the question. She sighs.

"I have to leave soon, Connor," she says. I nod.

"I understand. Would you like me to go ahead and go?" I ask.

"That would be the best, I think. I wish you didn't have to, though."

"I know, it was nice getting to relax for a while together."

"Promise me it won't be the last time. You know where to find me now." I smile.

"Of course it won't be the last time. You can't get rid of me that easy." She chuckles.

"Well, if you'd like, you can come over for dinner next week."

"Of course. What time?"

"Well, the store closes at eight, so I won't be here until almost nine. Is that too late for dinner?"

"You'd be surprised how late I eat sometimes. If you'd like, I'll even help cook again."

"Of course, Connor. Wouldn't want to—"

"Hurt my fragile feelings. Right, right." She laughs and nudges me.

"See you later."

"Bye, Emily."

I walk out the door, a smile lingering on my face. It feels so good to relax and be around a normal person, doing something as normal as talking to someone while eating breakfast. And not about assassination plots or conspiracies. Normal people stuff. I enjoy it.

Maybe even _I_ can get used to relaxing and socializing.


	10. Chapter 10

**Here we go, chapter 10! Just as a note, the timeline in my story doesn't** _ **quite**_ **align with that of the game. Bear with me here guys! (Also… please review! I'd love to know what ya'll think.)**

 **Connor POV**

I ride into New York for the first time in a year. I haven't been here since Father and I teamed up to stop those thieves. I frown, now that I think on it I've only seen him once since then, and it was very brief and long ago, back when I helped retrieve Emily's things. It's weird, but I almost miss him. Almost.

I came here after an argument with Achilles, which happened to have been about Father. I have been thinking about talking to him about a real truce. A permanent one, order wide. Maybe he will agree, after all we get so much more done together, and I know he's mentioned working with me more permanently. I came here, having heard whispers that Father is in town. Though part of me wants to turn around and ride back to the homestead for some reason.

As I have that thought, I find Father. I have been tracking him, but I was not expecting to find him so easy. To my disappointment, he isn't alone. My _favorite person_ is with him. I grunt, both in disgust and dismay, I don't want to be around Charles, not unless I'm killing him. They both mount their horses but sit still talking.

I turn away, having decided that I don't want to kill Charles. Allow me to rephrase: I _do_ want to kill him, but I know Father would not be happy. He would probably try and kill me, too. Even I know I'm no match for him, and the number advantage Charles provides tilts the scales even further for them. Just as I'm about to spur my horse away, I hear the familiar British voice of Lee.

"Master Kenway! Look who it is!" he says. I groan, loud enough to be sure they both hear me, and face them once more.

"Son," Father says warmly. He smiles at me, and my heart warms. He's glad to see me?

"Father. Lee," I say, the second word said with hate. Father and Lee ride up to me. I glare daggers at Charles.

"It's good to see you, son. It's been a while. What brings you to New York?"

"You."

"You actually went looking for me? Should I be worried for my life, then?"

"Don't be silly. After a year of silence between us and our orders, and suddenly I decide to kill you? I'm not that unpredictable."

"Then what is it you need?"

"To talk to you alone."

"What you can say to me, you can say to Charles."

"Father, please, I would feel better if he weren't around."

"Fine. Charles?"

"Are you sure?" he asks.

"Quite. There's no danger, that bit about him coming to kill me was a joke. I trust him."

"As you wish." Charles rides away. We begin riding through the city.

"So, what is it? Or do you need more privacy than this?"

"I'm not worried," I say.

"So?"

"Well, I…" I feel silly now, thinking about what I'm going to propose. He won't agree, he'll only laugh in my face and call me naïve for thinking a truce would ever work.

"Yes? Is everything alright?"

"I… wanted you to help me find out what the Loyalists are planning. My fight has been lulled to a stop from lack of knowledge."

"Oh, of course. It's good that Charles is here, he can help—"

"I am not working with him. No way. You're lucky I respect your wishes and our truce enough to spare him his life, but I can barely stand to look at him."

"I know, I wish to see that change."

"Why?"

"Because, I can do little about changing how things are between us if you are at each other's throats."

"My relationship with you is independent of mine with him, Father."

"Not completely. To have any sort of relationship with you, I can't have you killing my second in command."

"I guess not. Doesn't mean I have to work with him."

"Fine, as you wish."

"So will you be able to call on a contact for this?"

"Should be, give me until sunset. Meet me then, by the docks where you dropped me off before."

"As you wish, Master Kenway," I say, mimicking Charles. Father scowls.

"What was that about?"

"Oh, well just that you spoke to me like one of your lapdogs, so I had to fit the character."

"Get lost, boy. Not too lost though, I better not wait for you long tonight like last time." I roll my eyes.

Several hours later, I ride for the docks. Father is talking to a man, an exasperated look on his face as the man talks with panic. I frown, that cannot be good. When I get close, Father subtly puts his hand up, telling me to stop. I comply, listening to their conversation.

"We need to know what the Loyalists are planning if we're to put an end to this," he says, as if he's talking to a child. It gives me a little comfort knowing he talks to others like that, not just me.

"I've tried! But the soldiers themselves are told nothing now! Only to await orders from above," the man says.

"Keep digging. Come find me when you have something worth sharing." The man nods and leaves. I approach Father, who crosses his hands behind his back and sighs. "We're so close to victory, you know. A few more well-placed attacks and we can put an end to this civil war and be rid of the Crown."

"What do you intend?" I ask, then frown at myself. I really have started letting him take the lead.

"Well, nothing at the moment, since we're completely in the dark."

"I thought the Templars had eyes and ears everywhere."

"Oh, we did. Until you started cutting them off." I have to force myself not to smile at this, it's good to know I've left my mark.

"Your contact said orders from above. That tells us exactly what we should do: track down the Loyalist commanders." Father grants me a tiny smile. Then he takes off running, me just behind him.

"I want to apologize," Father says, still running.

"Whatever for?" I reply.

"I intended to reach out to you sooner, it's been over a year since we've spoken. Not to mention I let your birthday go by without so much as a good wish."

"You know I don't care about that stuff."

"Well I do, son. It actually saddens me a bit that the old man doesn't do anything for you."

"Why?"

"Because, I seem to recall you enjoying the cake last year, despite your protests."

"Well, yeah, everyone likes cake though."

"Not everyone."

"You get my point." He pauses.

"And I'm sure you get mine. Maybe when this is over we could do something." I smile.

"Maybe. But we can't finish what we don't start, so come on." I nudge him, and he smiles and chuckles before continuing.

After some running and climbing in silence, we finally reach a short vantage point where we can spy on some British officers. He crouches on the ledge, and I stand just behind him. We watch and listen.

"Have you considered the proposal?" One asks.

"I'm unconvinced. To support them would leave New York exposed. It's hard enough keeping order with our current numbers. Cut in half…" the second says.

"Yet if we do not aid them they risk defeat, and then what?" says the third.

"Well they should have come by sea." Father sighs.

"They're talking in circles. We'll learn nothing, watching as we are," he whispers, then stands.

"Then what do you propose we do? March in there and demand answers?" I ask.

"Well, yes." I open my mouth to argue, but he air assassinates two guards before I can speak. This makes the second time.

"Ambush!" an officer yells.

"Connor? Little help here?" Father calls. I roll my eyes and join him. "Leave the commanders alive, Connor. We can interrogate them."

 **Haytham POV**

I live for times like these, I can tell it's been a while since I've fought side by side with my boy. I didn't used to take such pleasure in fighting, especially because it usually means I'm doing work below me. But since Connor and I began working together, it's different. Now he isn't the enemy, or my smart mouthed son. He's a brother in arms, and a damn good soldier.

Which makes him even more endearing to me. This is probably the closest to bonding he and I will ever do. I can settle for this.

"Duck!" Connor shouts as he throws his tomahawk in my direction. I duck and hear the weapon make contact with flesh just behind me.

"Good throw," I say. Connor rolls and pulls his tomahawk from the chest of a soldier. Just before he rises, I swing my sword over his head and slice the throat of a soldier aiming his gun at Connor.

"Do not take my head off," he says.

"You should trust me more." Connor shoots a guard who is charging at me.

"Trust you? I'm the one who keeps saving you."

"I can handle myself." Connor snickers.

"As long as you've been single, I'm sure you can."

"Connor!" He stabs the last guard in the throat with his hidden blade, then smirks at me. We approach the now cowering commanders, and I tie their hands.

"We'll bring them back to my quarters at Fort George and see what secrets they may share," I say as I tie the last one's hands. The first one slips loose and takes off. "Really?" I turn to Connor. "Well, you best get after him."

"You go. I will watch the prisoners," Connor says.

"No, you do it."

"Why me?"

"Because I said so! Now go!" Connor reluctantly follows the man, and I sigh after him. "I never thought I would say those words."

 **Connor POV**

I'm making my way to the fort with the commander, and I must say he's feeling quite uncooperative. When it comes into view, he fights even harder. I sigh and wrestle him to the entrance, which I'm assuming the reason it's wide open is for me.

"Wait! I'll tell you anything you want, anything! Only don't make me go in there!" he pleads.

"We just have some questions for you," I reply.

"Cross that threshold and I'm a dead man." I open my mouth to reply, but Father cuts me off.

"Connor, there you are. I was worried you had gotten lost," he says, and I glare at him. He takes the commander by the arm. "Come along, then."

The soldier looks back at me with a pleading look. But I can't say or do anything, who am I that Father would listen?

He sits the commander in a chair and ties him to it. I look at the other two, who appear to be unconscious. That's odd…

"What are the British planning?" Father asks.

"To march from Philadelphia. That city's finished, New York's the key. They'll double our numbers, push back the rebels," he replies.

"When do they begin?"

"Two days from now."

"June 18th. I must warn Washington," I say, and Father shrugs.

"See, that wasn't so difficult now, was it?" Father asks.

"I've told you everything. Now let me go," the commander replies.

"Of course." Father walks around behind him, then extends his hidden blade as if to cut the rope. Instead, he slits the man's throat. "The other two said the same thing, it must be true."

"You killed him! You killed all of them, why?!" I ask, almost shouting.

"They would have warned the Loyalists."

"You could have held them here until the fight was done."

"What, and waste precious time and money on their care? What would be the point? They've given up what they knew." Father walks out without letting me rebuttal. "I'll meet you at Valley Forge."

 **Haytham POV**

I pace back and forth, wiping my brow as I wait for Connor. It's too hot for this nonsense. I sigh and look down the path, finally hearing a horse. Sure enough it's my son, galloping this way. He comes to a halt not far from me and dismounts, then leads me inside.

"We should be sharing what we know with Lee, not Washington," I mention.

"You seem to think I favor him, but my enemy is a notion, not a nation. It is wrong to compel obedience, whether to the British Crown, or the Templar Cross. And I hope in time the Loyalists see this too, for they are also victims," he says. I stop and put my hand on his shoulder, so he stops too.

"You oppose tyranny. Injustice. But these are just symptoms. Their true cause is human weakness. Why do you think I keep trying to show you the error of your way?"

"You have said much, yes. But you have shown me nothing." With that, he continues.

"We'll have to remedy that then, won't we?" With that, I follow.

When Connor and I reach Washington, he's intently reading a letter, a frown on his face. Connor steps ahead of me and folds his hands, standing there respectfully. I almost want to slap him for it.

"Sir," Connor says, and I barely stop myself from groaning. Connor calling someone sir is so weird, but especially Washington.

"Ah, Connor," Washington begins, turning to face Connor but ignoring me. So I snoop while they talk.

Connor isn't going to like this.

"And what's this?" I say, picking up the letter.

"Private correspondence," Washington says, then dives to grab it. I dodge him with ease.

"Oh, of course it is. Would you like to know what it says, Connor?" Connor looks at Washington, who looks defeated. He knows Connor won't forgive him for this.

"I… I mean…" Connor stutters. He doesn't know whose side he should take here.

"It seems your good friend here has just ordered an attack on your village." I pause, and Connor looks at the commander, the feeling of betrayal clear on his face. I pity him but am proud that I caught this. "Although attack would be putting it lightly. Tell him, Commander."

"We've been receiving reports of allied natives working with the Loyalists. I asked my men to put a stop to it," Washington says.

"By burning their villages and salting their land. By calling for their extermination, according to this letter." Then I realize I can shed some light. "Not the first time, either. Tell him what you did eighteen years ago." Connor's eyes widen.

"Ista…" he whispers, and I know he knows what I'm talking about.

"That was another time. The Seven Years War," Washington says.

"And now you _see_ what happens to this 'great man' when under duress," I say. "He makes excuses. Displaces blame. Does a great deal of things, in fact, except take responsibility!" Washington gets in my face, about to retort.

"ENOUGH!" Connor shouts, and the loudness of his usually quiet voice makes me jump, and the whole camp goes silent. "Who did what and why must wait. My people come first." I pretend to not hear the shakiness of his voice, and instead sigh.

"Then let's be off."

"No. You and I are finished." I feel my heart shatter into a million pieces. This can't be the end. If we stop working together now, especially like this, we'll for sure kill each other.

"Son…" I say, surprised that I can manage no more than a whisper, my voice as soft and delicate as my heart feels. I want to say more, want to convince him not to do this, but I'm at a loss for words. This is the most hurt I've _ever_ felt.

"Do you think me so soft that by calling me son I might change my mind? How long have you sat on this information, or am I to believe you only just discovered it now?" He's right, I handled this wrong. "My mother's blood may stain another's hand, but Charles Lee is no less a monster, and all he does he does by your command." He turns to go, but he must have sensed me reaching out to stop him, because he turns around sharply. "A warning to you both: choose to follow me or oppose me and I _will_ kill you." With that, he storms away to the nearest horse, stealing it and galloping away.

"Well played, Kenway. Now we have both lost an asset," Washington says.

"Is that all my son is to you? An asset? A tool? How could you betray him like this?" I demand. I'm so angry and hurt, and this bastard dare call my son an asset?

"It isn't my fault the natives are causing problems! Maybe he should have kept them under control!"

"They're his people, not his servants! You realize that the only reason he ever aided you was to protect them, and you turn on him like this! You better come up with a damn good reason why I don't chop off your head and feed it to the wolves!"

"If you kill me, not even a man of your skill could escape this camp alive."

"Perhaps, but your life isn't worth even risking my own. If you'll excuse me, my son needs my help." I storm away.

"He wasn't kidding, he will kill you!"

"Only if he knows I'm there!" I mount a horse and gallop away.

Finding Connor proved easy enough, I just had to cut through the trees in the general direction. I'm now following behind him as he enters the village. After a short conversation in Mohawk with an elderly woman, he heads back into the forest on foot.

I see him sneaking up on some natives and taking them out. I can guess that they're about to attack the patriots, and he's doing this to stop them from getting killed. I stealthily help him, then once they're all out go find my son. He's in a clearing with another native boy, about his age I'd guess.

They're circling each other, speaking quickly in Mohawk. The other man seems angry, pointing his finger every so often. Connor seems to be trying, in vain, to explain something. The soldier's presence, probably. After a few more moments, the other man attacks Connor, pinning him to the ground. They struggle over a knife, and just before I step out to intervene Connor stabs him with his hidden blade. Connor talks with him for a few minutes before he dies.

"Kanen'tó:kon, why did you make me do this?" Connor says. He kneels next to him, closes the man's eyes, and then weeps.

He quickly regains control of himself. He stands and wipes his eyes, then his face twists into a scowl.

"Someone will die for this," he says, then storms away.

The intensity of his voice is enough to give even me the chills.


	11. Chapter 11

**It's time for another update! I'm really excited for the next few chapters! I know after where we left off last time ya'll probably want to see Haytham, but he unfortunately will not be back until the next chapter. Also, I do have a lot of plans for this story (like, a LOT), and I'm not sure how long it's gonna get. So get ready! Also, I love writing chapters like this one, if ya'll want more like it let me know. So, ramble over, enjoy the chapter!**

 **Connor POV**

Achilles lays in bed, very sick. He can barely get his voice above a whisper. Some days, he's very quiet and goes along with whatever, but others he argues with such a passion that it makes me forget he's sick. Today is the second.

"Enough!" I shout, standing up.

"You must understand what will happen if you do not kill him," he replies. As usual, we're talking about Father. I can't see why we always argue about him.

"I cut him off. He and I are finished."

"Oh?"

"He withheld information about the death of my mother, sitting on it until it was convenient for him. Not to mention I see more and more how different we are. Anyway, Washington is responsible. He also tried to attack my village. I will not be working with either man again."

"When did this happen?"

"Almost a year ago."

"So, why am I only just hearing of this?"

"Well, right after it happened I went out to sea. I needed to take a step back from everything, and that was the best way to do it while still being productive." He shrugs.

"Anyway, point being you have a soft spot for your father. I can tell by how upset you always get when I mention killing him, even now that you say you're through working with him. You will hesitate when the time comes."

"I don't see why. I had to kill my best friend, killing him should be simple in comparison."

"I am sorry to hear about that, Connor."

"It is of the past. I must keep moving forward. I've constructed a plan to kill Charles Lee, and now that I've broken ties with my father, there are no more reasons to refrain. Hopefully Lee will be dead by the end of the year. With luck, though I'm not pushing it, so will Haytham." I sigh, saying his name feels wrong. "I mean, my father…"

"I maybe wouldn't rush going after Haytham, you're still hurt. You aren't thinking straight. And I'm willing to gamble your heart isn't in that pursuit, you spent so much time with him you surely have grown attached." I scoff.

"It was misplaced. Everything the man said to me was a lie. His ways are cruel, and he's so steadfast in the Templar ways that I can't run away from killing him much longer. This is just my punishment for being naïve enough to think he could be spared, but I knew from the day you let me in I had to kill him." I sigh and sit back down. "Achilles, I'm sorry. I should not have yelled at you earlier. With everything going on—"

"Do not apologize. You've been through a lot, you're uptight. Perhaps you ought to relax, may do you some good, my boy." I lean back in my chair.

"Well, I have a friend in Boston I could visit to relax."

"That would be wise." I rest my hand on Achilles's.

"I just hate to leave you, old man."

"I've still got some time left. You've more to worry about than sitting around waiting for me to die, anyway."

"Well what if something happens? What if you need something?" He rolls his eyes.

"I'm sick, not paralyzed."

"I just worry about you, Achilles. You know…" I sigh. Showing affection is hard. And weird. "You know I care a lot about you."

"I know, Connor. But I'm still here." He pats my hand with his free one. I clear my throat.

"So… you think I should go to Boston?"

"I do. Take a mini-vacation. Kill Lee later." I sigh and look at my hand that still sits on his. When I speak again, it's barely a whisper.

"What if, when the time comes, I can't kill my father?" I look back at him, and his gaze turns cold.

"Then you better hope he won't be able to bring himself to kill you. Because chances are, if you start fighting there will be no going back." I nod and close my eyes tight. I think I might cry. I so badly wanted things to work better than this.

"You are right. Thank you."

"I'm just telling you straight."

"Which is why I am grateful." With that, I get up.

"I just hope it ends well."

"Me too. I'll see you later, old man."

"Bye, Connor."

I ride into Boston several hours later, eager to have something to fill the silence. The long trip gave me much time to think about my father. I do not want to kill him, but can I trust him? I do not think so, and to think we made such progress. I wonder what would have happened had I proposed a more permanent truce like I had planned. Did I overreact about the whole thing?

No, I do not think so. I know I was already feeling hurt and betrayed by Washington, and Father _is_ the one who revealed it all. But why didn't he tell me the truth about my mother's death? What else has he kept from me? Furthermore, for someone who hates Washington as much as he does, he seemed awful willing to go to him that night. And Charles had already been to the village even before me. Did they know…?

I shake me head, sighing. It's not impossible. Despite what my father tried to make me believe, I know the Templars still have eyes and ears everywhere. I do not know where he was that whole afternoon or what he was doing, but it seemed every step we took was calculated. Too much so to be coincidence. No, if he would go to all that trouble just for that, to taint the patriots and Washington in my eyes just to sway me to the Templars, who knows what else he would do?

I pull out my pocket watch, determined to shake it from my mind. It's just after eight, the general store Emily works at should be closed. Perhaps I should check her house for her. I steer my horse in that direction, forcing my mind not to wander to Father again.

I make it to her house, and sure enough she's sitting on the front steps, watching the setting sun. I dismount and join her. She smiles at me, and I instantly feel my stress fade.

"Hi, Connor. Long time no see," she says.

"Hey. Yeah, sorry, I got super busy," I reply.

"For a ye ar and a half?"

"You'd be surprised."

"I just thought you forgot me." I nudge her.

"Never." Her smile grows, and in turn my does too. She looks back at the sunset, yet I can't peel my eyes away from her. She's changed so much, and I realize that it really has been too long since I've seen her.

"Isn't it beautiful?"

"Gorgeous." My reply is breathless, and I'll admit the sunset is not what I'm talking about. I see her turn her head and I look away quickly.

"What brings you to town?"

"You. Achilles, the old man I live with, thinks I'm too busy and insisted I relax. So, I thought I'd see what you were up to."

"Aw, you thought of me? I guess we're starting to get good friendship, huh?"

"I'd like to think so."

"Though it is kind of late to come to town, isn't it?"

"It was a long ride."

"You should take me there sometime. I'd love to meet Achilles."

"I think you'd like it there, it's a nice piece of land, and the people are friendly. Maybe you could come sometime."

"You'd have to be careful though, wouldn't want the old man to get the wrong idea." I finally look back at her, my eyes locking on her green ones.

"What do you mean?"

"In case you hadn't noticed, I'm a girl." I smile playfully.

"What? No way!" She chuckles and gently smacks my arm.

"Jerk. I just mean that people assume a guy and a girl can't be friends without more going on."

"Oh. Yeah. Wouldn't want that." I look back at the sunset, feeling hurt for some unknown reason.

"So, you surely aren't planning to ride back tonight, right?'

"No, I figure I'll rent a room somewhere."

"You know, I've got a spare bedroom, you could stay here. If you want."

"I would not want to impose—"

"You always say that! Would I offer if it was a problem?" I smile.

"By all means, do not let me hurt your fragile feelings by declining." She laughs.

"You're the one with fragile feelings!"

"Am I? I think that's you."

"Nuh-uh!" I just laugh. "Anyway, that'll give us more time to talk. If we're going to be friends we should get to know more about each other, since we've spent very little time together."

"I'd like that." She grins and stands up, then shoves me roughly so I fall off the steps. "Hey!"

"Hay is for horses, now come inside. I haven't eaten yet." I roll my eyes and get up.

"Well since someone shoved me to the ground, I have dust on me now." I go to brush myself off.

"You missed some."

"Where?"

"On your butt." I try and brush it off, and she just chuckles again.

"Why are you laughing?"

"You just look so _dignified_ , is all."

"You're the genius who shoved me!"

"And you're the poor guy with dust on his butt." I frown as she laughs, tossing her head back as she does.

"I'm glad this is funny, you bully."

"Oh, it is hilarious." I roll my eyes but can't fight the smile that's forcing itself onto my face.

"Did I get it all?"

"You're asking me to look at your butt?" I blush a bit.

"I… you already did once!"

"It's hard not to when you have all that dust there."

"Okay, well is it there now?"

"Not looking."

"Okay, well if I sit down on your nice furniture and get it dusty, it'll be your fault, doubly so."

"That's a chance I'll have to take." She turns and enters the house. I frown and twist, trying to see if I missed anything. I shrug, satisfied, and then follow her in.

"Why is it that your father is never around when I'm here?" I ask, looking around.

"Oh, I dunno. He's gone a lot, so I reckon it's not hard to miss him."

"I see."

"Are you hungry?"

"No, not particularly. I ate not long ago."

"Suit yourself. While this is cooking, let me show you the room."

"Okay. Lead the way."

The next morning, I sit up in the bed and stretch. I slept good, I don't think I can remember feeling so relaxed. I get dressed and go downstairs, where the smell of breakfast is coming. I enter the kitchen to see Emily making breakfast. She glances over her shoulder and smiles. My heart does a summersault.

Oh no, am I falling for her?

"Morning, Connor. Sleep good?" she asks.

"Good morning. Yes, I slept fine, thank you," I say. She turns back around.

"You hungry?"

"I am now. Whatever you're making smells amazing."

"Will you grab a couple plates? They're in the cabinet over there." I go to where she points and get out two plates.

"Do you have to open the store?"

"No, my dad is there. He'll take care of it." Emily and I sit down with our food.

"That's good."

"So, do you just hunt? I feel like you do more than that."

"Well, I have this ship. I take her out to sail some, right now I'm working on looking for this treasure."

"Oh? What kind of treasure?"

"Well, I'm not sure. This old guy was telling me he had clues for a treasure that belonged to a pirate a few decades back. I'm trading with him to get them, right now I just have one more clue to pursue."

"That's exciting. I hope it's worth your while."

"Me too."

"So, tell me something."

"Hm?"

"Is it okay to ask about your parents? Why weren't you raised by them?"

"They split up before I was born. So far as I know, my father didn't even know I existed until a couple years ago. So I lived with my mom in the village. Until… well, when I was four, it burned down. She didn't make it."

"I'm so sorry. That's awful."

"I wound up leaving to find Achilles because I was told he could train me, so I could protect my people. I have been working outside my village to keep them safe. Though it seems it's all in vain."

"Why?"

I explain the situation about how the troops were sent to our doorstep, and how Lee spun a tale to make it sound like I sent them there. With a heavy heart, I told her about Kanen'tó:kon being turned against me, and how the rest of them no longer trust me to keep them safe.

"The Clan Mother is even planning on leaving," I say, finishing.

"That must be rough. I'm sorry," she says.

"I did my best, though it seems it was not enough. I have failed." She rests her hand on my arm, and the butterflies that gives me almost makes me forget my sorrow. Almost.

"Don't be so hard on yourself, it may have been unavoidable."

"I know, but it upsets me. All I truly wanted was to protect them." I sigh. "Let's talk about you."

"What about?"

"Well, since we're talking about parents, I have never heard you mention your mother. Is she—"

"Out of the picture."

"May I ask what happened?"

"I'll tell you what happened. He began the divorce process when I was ten. Before then, dad would leave me at home with her while he worked. And she was abusive. Very much so. He'd come home and ask where the bruises were from, she'd tell him I fell, or got into a fight. Eventually he learned what happened, and so he began working on the divorce. But she didn't like the idea. So she..." Emily takes a deep breath and continues. "She kidnapped me and beat me more. And nearly drowned me. She would send him letters telling him all she did to me and that it would be worse if he didn't back off the divorce."

"What happened?"

"One day, she was even more crazy than usual. She got a knife and chased me with it. I ended up pinned on the floor, and she was about to cut something into my flesh when I got the knife from her." Emily starts crying. She doesn't bother with the tears as she finishes her story. "I stabbed her. Over. And over. And over. I don't know how many times. I murdered her violently."

"It was in self-defense."

"I know. I didn't get into any trouble for it. I was justified. And she wasn't missed. But since that day, my father has trusted no one. And he raised me so I could be self-reliant too. I'm going to own the store one day. He wants me to never have to depend on another person."

"And you shouldn't have to." She wipes away her tears.

"I'm sorry, you probably didn't want all that detail." I wipe away a fresh tear that escapes.

"No, no, don't apologize. I'm glad you felt comfortable telling me. I'm sorry for bringing up a hard topic." She smiles at me.

"You're a good friend, Connor. Those are hard to come by."

"It's an honor, believe me."

She stands up and hugs me, wrapping her arms around my neck. I wrap mine around her waist, feeling more comfortable hugging her than someone as awkward as me should. Dammit…

I like Emily Carson.


	12. Chapter 12

**Haytham POV**

I hear the cannons hitting the fort and sigh. This is it, Connor is here. I'm surprised he didn't choose a subtler approach. After all, bringing a whole fleet here to destroy the fort is not the way an Assassin should be going after a target. The boy is a madman, that's what I'm getting from it.

I step out of my quarters in hopes of finding Charles. I'm not sure who Connor is here for, but I honestly don't think it's me. I pause and grab my journal, tucking it into my coat. I plan to send Charles away and handle Connor myself. Surely, I can calm him down, he can't possibly still be mad at me. But if for some reason he is, which honestly isn't impossible, one of us may not walk away alive. If it's me who dies, I want to have my journal on me. Hopefully Connor finds it.

I shake my head. I know I outmatch him, so why am I preparing to die?

"Master Kenway, there you are!" Charles says.

"Charles, thank God. You need to get out of here," I say.

"Are you mad? I'm not leaving! We both know who it is on our doorstep."

"Which is why I want you gone. I may be able to talk some sense into him."

"You're still on this? He said he would kill you if he saw you again!"

"There's no danger. Surely, he isn't still mad at me, but I know I have a much greater chance of surviving this than you. I'm sure you're the one he's here for, anyway."

"Are you really going to bet your life on his sentiment? Who's to say he'll hold back?"

"He will. He must know, after all we've been through, that I am not evil."

"Yet here he is!"

"Look, not the point. If anyone is to die today, I would rather it be me than you. But I will be perfectly fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, now will you go before he shows up? I'll find him and stall, so you can make your escape."

"Yes, sir." He leaves hesitantly. I take a deep breath. I wish I was as confident as I talk.

I head in the direction of the chaos, knowing Connor is using the attack as cover and will therefore be in the heart of it. As I suspect, I find him easily enough. He has his back to me and is breathing heavily. He looks awful. What was he thinking, deciding to attack this way? _Was_ he thinking? He calls for Charles, and I figure there's no better time than now to reveal myself, despite the increasing anxiety I feel.

 **Connor POV**

I should have listened to Achilles.

I hate when I have to admit that, but there's no denying this is not going the way I planned. I'm badly injured and haven't even found Charles yet. I stumble further into the fort, ignoring the pain in my side from being hit. Achilles called me a fool for taking this approach, and now I agree.

"Where are you Charles?" I call, ignoring the scratchiness of my voice. My anger, frustration, exhaustion, and pain all are contributing to the dizziness I feel. This was a bad idea.

"Gone," Father says from behind. I refrain a groan as I turn to face him quickly. Another unexpected turn.

Father runs up to me and, before I can even react, punches me in the face, stunning me. He then knees me in the stomach, causing me to double over. Before I can recover, he digs his elbow into the back of my neck, knocking me down to my hands and knees.

I go for a cheap shot, and when Father grunts and stumbles back I shoot to my feet. After exchanging a few punches, I grab Father's arm and twist it behind his back. He grunts before speaking.

"Come now… you cannot hope… to match me…" he says breathlessly. "As skilled as you are, you're still but yet a boy, with so much left to learn." I shove him away and pull out my tomahawk. I whack Father's arm, destroying the hidden blade. He shouts in pain, I'll admit I wasn't careful about not drawing blood.

"Give me Lee!" I shout.

"Impossible. He is the promise of a better future." Father wraps his wrist, and I let him. "The sheep… need a shepherd."

"He has been dismissed and censured, he can be of no use to you now."

"A temporary setback. He will be restored." Father draws his sword, and I ready my tomahawk. I must admit, being on this side of Father's blade is slightly intimidating. I've seen it cut through hundreds of men, and I don't dare underestimate him. Still, I will give my all in this fight, despite being weak. Father is in my way, and I cannot let emotional attachment stop me.

No, not attachment. Misplaced sentiment is what Achilles called it.

This time, I agree. I was wrong all along.

 **Haytham POV**

I've seen that look that Connor has in his eye, just not on him. Hundreds of soldiers, Assassins, and even fellow Templars have had that look, but _never_ him. As we circle each other, his eyes tell me he's here for blood. If he cannot have Charles's, then he will try for mine. My heart is heavy, and it takes all I have in me to keep my eyes from tearing up. He doesn't want to kill Lee because he thinks it will better the world. He's bloodthirsty.

I attempt banter as we fight. Surely, I can talk him into calming down, to seeing reason. There is nothing I want to do more than to protect my son, yet he may die tonight at my own hands. I need to convince him that I am not the enemy, or I will be forced to kill him.

"You act as though you have some right to judge," I say as he parries my attack. "To declare me and mine wrong for the world." He uses the momentum of my attack to throw me into a barrel, which breaks upon impact. I get back up and continue. "And yet everything I've shown you— all I've said and done— should clearly demonstrate otherwise." He slams me into a table, and I get up and kick his leg, then swing my sword. He almost deflects it, I manage to slice along his torso. He groans but stands firm. "We did not harm your people. We did not support the Crown. We work to see this land united and at peace. Under our rule, all would be equal." He shoves me once more and smashes a bottle on my head. I stumble back. "Do the Patriots offer the same?" I parry his attack and remain quiet, hoping to get him to say something.

"They offer freedom," he says, breathing heavily. I plunge forward, and he sidesteps me. Before he uses our surroundings to his advantage again, I regain my posture and swing at him again. It was sloppy but prevented him from making his move.

"Which I've told you time and time again is dangerous! There will never be consensus, son, amongst those you've helped to ascend. They will each differ in their views of what it means to be free. The peace you so desperately seek does not exist." He begins to swing his tomahawk, and I move to counter, but then he slashes me with his hidden blade on his other hand. Clever boy.

"No, together they will forge something new. Something better than what there was before."

"These men are united now by a common cause, but when the battle is finished? They will fall to fighting amongst themselves about how best to ensure control. In time, it will lead to a war. You will see."

"The Patriot leaders do not seek control. There will be no monarch here. The people will have the power— as they should!" I laugh.

"The people never have the power, only the illusion of it! And here's the real secret: they don't want it." Connor parries my attack once more, and I notice that's all he's been doing. Why aren't there any offensive attacks? Am I getting through? "The responsibility is too great to bear. Notice how quick people are to fall in line as soon as someone takes charge? It's because they want to be told what to do. They YEARN for it. Little wonder, that, since all mankind was built to serve."

"So because we are inclined by nature to be controlled, who better than the Templars? It is a poor offer."

"It is truth! Principle and practice are two very different beasts." He does it again, sidesteps me as I plunge then uses my momentum against me. More barrels break beneath me, and though I rise back to my feet, I must admit that maneuver is taking its toll. I must be careful.

"No, Father, you have given up, and would have us all to do the same!" He rolls on the ground, and I only know what to expect because I've seen him do this before. He swings his tomahawk, and I twist to deflect it. But the sudden movement along with the force of his blow knocks me to the ground. He gets up and, with that ever-present scowl, raises his tomahawk. Just before he swings, a cannonball hits a building nearby. The debris flies into him, knocking him down as well. He gasps in pain, and I take the second to get up, albeit slowly.

"Surrender… and I will spare you," he says. He crawls toward me slowly, trying to get up.

"Brave words from a man about to die," I retort. He grits his teeth and weakly lunges, and I hear his hidden blade click. But I just grab his arm and pin it down with ease, then pin him down the rest of the way with my bodyweight. I put my free hand around his throat.

"You fare no better." I sigh. I will have to kill him, he's too determined. A shame, I really like him. No, I _love_ him. But he gives me no choice.

"Even when your kind appears to triumph, still we rise again. Do you know why?"

"I feel like you're going to tell me." I put pressure on his throat, and immediately I hear his breathing strain.

"It is because the Order is born of REALIZATION. We require no creed. No indoctrination by desperate old men." Connor is becoming weaker, and I feel safe putting my other hand on his throat. "All we need is that the world be as it is. This is why the Templars will never be destroyed."

With that, I put more pressure on his throat, choking him. He tries to pull my arms away, even hitting them, but he's so weak that it has no effect. I look him in the eyes, which are slowly closing and becoming more distant. He grimaces and tries kicking me, but his legs don't reach. His eyes close the rest of the way, and I feel a tear escape my eye. My poor boy. He deserves better. I feel so guilty. His arms fall uselessly to his side and his face twists into a scowl.

"I'm sorry…" I whisper as I tighten my grip even more.

"You… aren't…" he struggles to say. He thinks I want this? This is where I failed. I've been too hard on him. If I had done better, we wouldn't be here now.

I wish there was a way to end this without his suffering. But if I move, he is sure to get free. He opens his eyes wide, and I see pure hate in them. That look alone hurts me more than I can explain. But I see something else, what could it be? Not fear, like I saw on his face that day at the gallows. Not even defeat, like what I saw back at the church. No, something else. Could it be… determination?

As that dawns on me, I feel a sharp pain in my right shoulder. I grunt and look to see his hidden blade dug into me. Damn, that was a forceful blow for someone I thought on death's doorstep. I stumble back, and I hear Connor gasp for air as I do. But my vision is blurring. I move my hand from my wound and can't help but scoff at the amount of blood there. I'm going to die. Connor has killed me. I put my hand back anyway, as if doing so would stop the bleeding or even ease the pain. Of course, it does neither.

"Don't think I've any intention of caressing your cheek and saying I was wrong. I will not weep and wonder what might've been. I'm sure you understand," I say, then look away from Connor as he rises to his feet. My legs grow weak, and I find myself kneeling on the ground.

No, I need to show him at least a little kindness. This is it. I sigh, then look back at Connor. His face is twisted into a frown. Shouldn't he be happy? This I what he wanted, after all. I push that from my mind, feeling my time slipping. He clearly is not going to speak.

"Still," I continue, "I am proud of you, in a way. You've shown great conviction. Strength. Courage. All noble qualities. You're an incredible young man, Connor. I should have killed you long ago…" I try to continue, but my voice falters. I want to say more, but now my attempts to speak are just pathetic grunts, so I give up.

With that, I fall over. My eyes slowly close, and I watch Connor with all the energy I have. I hope to see something there, something that shows that he cares. But he just stands there, clutching a wound, watching me die. He doesn't care that I'm dying, he hates me. My heart shatters for the last time, and I close my eyes. I feel so alone, wishing I had tried something more sentimental for my last words, maybe it would have made him more sympathetic in the end. I always thought I'd die alone, but to die feeling alone but with someone I love? Much worse.

Just as I think that, I feel his calloused fingertips brush against my hand. I strain to look at him, and see he's squatting next to me, taking my hand into his. It's a small gesture but means so much to me. I see hurt in his eyes, and despite feeling relieved that he does care at least a little, I feel saddened. I don't want to see my boy hurt. I squeeze his hand with what little strength I have, then close my eyes.

"Goodbye, Father," I hear him whisper, and it's very feint. It is the last words I hear before my world goes black and silent.

 **Author's Note:** This chapter was honestly hard to write. I wanted to keep it as close to the game as possible, but there wasn't enough emotion there. Still, I didn't want to overdo it either, so I hope it's balanced enough... I know the cliffhanger sucks but worry not! I still have more ideas…


	13. Chapter 13

**Please forgive me for last chapter! I was gonna try and wait until the weekend to update, but I know how awful the cliffhanger was, and I found some spare time. So here's number 13, I hope it's worth the wait! As always, reviews are welcome!**

 **Connor POV**

"Goodbye, Father," I whisper, then turn to go.

And stop. I look over my shoulder at the lifeless form of Father, and suddenly become overwhelmed with sorrow.

And… love? Oh, I… I love my father, and now that it's too late I realize it. I was hasty, and now Father and I both pay for it. Why didn't I realize before? I'm such an idiot!

"What have I done? Father?" I say, rushing back to Father's side. "Father wake up. Please." I start shaking. I can't lose him! I feel for a pulse, pretending that I don't notice the tears streaming down my cheeks.

I sigh in relief, finding a very feint one. He's alive, but only barely. He needs a doctor.

"Hang in there. You'll be okay," I say, looking around. I'll need to carry Father, which will not be easy given my own state, but I have to try.

I find Father's handkerchief and compress it to the wound. I have to stop the bleeding if he's going to live long enough to get to a doctor. I then remove his cape and wrap it around him to hold the handkerchief over the stab wound, which is gratefully in the shoulder and not the neck.

After doing so, I pick Father up. He is by no means light, especially considering my condition. But determined, I run until I get to familiar territory. Soon enough I find a doctor.

"Please, Doctor, you have to help my father. He's hurt," I say when the doctor answers the door.

"He's barely alive, I'm not sure I can save him," the doctor says. I feel my heart stop.

"Please, you have to do something! At least patch him enough for travel. I'll pay anything you want, just please help him."

"Bring him in, let me see what I can do." I carry him inside and gently set him on a bed, then exit so the doctor can work.

I pace just outside. The doctor said he'd call me when he finished. While I don't wish to stray far, I need to walk this anxiety off.

"Sir?" the doctor says. I stop pacing and face him.

"Yes?" I ask.

"He's still alive, but I don't have the means to keep him that way. You can transport him, but I would advise you not to go too far."

"Yes sir, what do I owe you?"

"I cannot charge you for what little I've done. Just take care of him."

"Thank you, that means a lot."

I ride to the homestead in a hurry. I make it in record time, at the expense of wearing my poor horse out. I dismount in front of Doctor White's house and carry Father to the door. I pound on it loudly, until finally the doctor opens it with tired eyes. Quickly they widen at the sight of Father.

"Bring him in, don't just stand there," he says, stepping out of my way. I enter and put him down again. "Bloody amateur did the patchwork on him. He's lucky you got him here."

"So you can help him?" I ask.

"Sure thing." He gets to work. "He'll need stitches, though."

"Whatever it takes, Doctor. Just make sure he lives."

"He will, no worries. I'm sure you're interested in your father's care, but I think both you and your horse need to go up the hill and rest. No doubt he'll be fine."

"How do you know he's my father?"

"Well, you mean besides the fact that he looks just like you? I have my ways, boy. But enough of that, go on to the house now."

"You expect me to rest when he's in this condition?"

"Connor, please, just let me do my job." I sigh, but he's right. I'll just be under foot.

"I will be back in the morning."

"Good. Sleep well." I look at Father once more before leaving.

I return to Doctor White's house the following morning after a sleepless night. I couldn't stop worrying about Father. I knock on the doctor's door.

"Come in, Connor," he calls. I enter, and see Father is still unconscious. The doctor is sitting at the table drinking coffee. "Sleep well?"

"Not a bit. How is he?" I ask.

"Alive. His blood pressure is up, but he hasn't awoken yet. I don't suspect he will for several hours. He nearly died."

"I know. But he will live?"

"Definitely. I stitched him up and after that his condition improved. He should be okay in no time.

"Thank you, Doctor White. I owe you big time."

"Anything for you, lad. Now, can you sleep knowing he's okay?"

"Yes. I will return."

"Take care."

I return to the mansion groggily. After the fight yesterday and the sleepless night, there's nothing I want more than to crawl into bed. But when I enter the house, I hear the back door closing. I frown and walk to the back, where Achilles is removing his coat. I cross my arms.

"You should be in bed," I say.

"You know I hate being cooped up," he replies, and I sigh.

"Let me help you back to bed." He sighs but goes along with me. When he's settled into bed, he furrows his brows.

"Tell me, who did you bring to the doctor?" I look away.

"You will not like it."

"Haytham, then."

"Yes."

"I'm telling you, the man is trouble, and the only thing he's done since you met him was give you grief."

"Maybe so, but I still care about him, okay?"

"I know, which is why I'm not arguing further." I sigh again.

"I could have been rid of him, you know. If I had just left him for dead…"

"But that isn't what you wanted. Deep down you knew you couldn't kill him."

"I know. You were right all along." He chuckles.

"Never did I think I'd see the day where you admit I was right." I roll my eyes.

"Don't let it go to your head, old man." He pats my knee.

"While you're so worried about me resting, I could say you need some rest too. You look awful."

"Yes, I suppose I feel as bad as I look. I should have the doctor tend to me when I awake though. Even I can't walk away from a fight with Father unscratched."

"Well, my advice is you get a couple hours rest in first."

"Sir yes sir." I mock salute, then stand up.

"Sleep well, Connor."

"I will try."

 **Haytham POV**

My brain feels empty and scrambled. The only thing I'm aware of is that my shoulder hurts like hell, but I have no recollection of what happened to make it that way. I certainly don't know where I am now.

I force my eyes open, but frown when my vision is out of focus. I blink several times before I can see properly. Distantly I hear voices, and while I recognize one, the other is completely foreign. I turn my head to see Connor, shirtless and being tended to by another man. The boy is complaining as usual, though what about is unclear to me.

I notice dark discoloration around his neck and can't quite identify what it is. Perhaps it is due to my vision still being fuzzy, and the distance probably doesn't help either. Maybe it's some sort of cloth. Hell, it could just be the way the light is cast on him.

"So… I see I'm alive," I say as loud as my voice can go, but it's barely audible. Still, Connor's head snaps up and he looks at me. If I didn't know better, I'd think he's smiling ever so slightly.

"Father! You're—" he begins, standing up. But the other man stops him and forces him to a sitting position.

"Sit still," he commanded.

"But Doctor White—"

"Zip it." Connor sits back and pouts.

"I thought I had died," I continue.

"You nearly did. You're lucky your son was so quick to get you here," the doctor says.

"Funny, since he's the one who did this to me."

"Your own fault! As I recall, I tried to end the fighting, but you insisted to try and kill me. I could have left you to die," Connor says. I scoff.

"So, what, am I supposed to be grateful then?"

"No, of course not. You're too much of a jerk to feel anything towards me but hate anyway." He looks away. "Maybe I should have left you to die." Damn, that hurts more than my wound.

"Son…"

"Save it." I sigh.

"Where the devil am I, anyway?"

"You're in my home, Mr. Kenway," the doctor says.

"Which would be where?"

"In the forest, far from the city," Connor says.

"Where you can keep me until you've handled Charles, no doubt."

"I brought you here because Doctor White is the best doctor there is. Not to mention the fact that I was very concerned that you would not make it, and he is close to my own home."

"Ah, so I'm on Davenport's homestead. And how does he feel about my presence, or does he know I'm here?"

"He knows, I do not keep things from him. He thinks you are trouble, which I do not disagree. However he will not ask me to get rid of you."

"Good to know."

"All done, Connor. But I implore you to be careful," Doctor White said.

"I always am," Connor says with a smirk.

"You wouldn't be in here so often if that were truth."

Connor stands up, and they begin discussing payment for Connor's care. I look at the ceiling, not really caring anymore about their discussion, and instead focus on my own thoughts. I can't wrap my mind around the fact that I even live. Why did Connor spare me? What will happen from here?

I move my hand to my shoulder. The already strong pain is growing more intense. But I normally am not one to whine, so I say nothing. What's a little pain, anyway?

As I think that, it becomes sharper. I grunt out of instinct, though I certainly did not intend to. I glance over at Connor, hearing his voice cut off mid-sentence. He and the doctor are both staring at me, concern on their faces.

"Doctor, he's in pain," Connor says.

"I'm fine," I manage, though I must admit my voice sounds quite strained. I close my eyes, clench my free hand into a fist, and grit my teeth. Yet despite my efforts, I'm unsuccessful in suppressing another grunt.

"Doctor White, please!" I look at Connor again, and I see he looks frantic. I furrow my brow, but the thought quickly slips my mind as the pain grows even sharper. The doctor slips from my view.

"Fuck," I say, holding my shoulder tighter, which only adds to the pain.

"Here, take this," Doctor White says, then gives me a bottle. I drink straight from it, eager to ease the pain even a little. Then he takes it back.

"Thank you." My voice is barely a whisper, and it takes all I have in me not to grunt again. The pain hasn't faded yet.

"Father, are you okay?" Connor asks. I look at him and can see the unmistakable worry on his features.

"Ask me again in a few moments, and you might like the answer better." Connor's frown deepens, but he is silent. After a few more moments, the pain begins to go, taking the tension in my body with it. I release a breath I didn't realize I was holding.

"Better?" Doctor White asks.

"Much, thank you."

"Father…?" Connor says.

"I'm fine, son. I'm fine." Connor looks away.

"I… I should be going. I've uh… got some things to do. See you, Father. Take care of him, Doctor."

"I will, Connor," the doctor says. Connor heads to the door, and I clear my throat.

"Connor?" I say, my voice still weak. I half expect him to not hear me, and maybe a part of me hopes he doesn't. But he stops and turns.

"Yes?" he replies.

"Come here, please don't make me strain my voice."

"Okay. Sorry, I didn't think." He walks over to my bedside. Now that he's closer, the darkness on his neck is evidently a bruise. I feel guilty, knowing where it came from. To be fair though, which one of us is bedridden?

"I… I don't know why you did it… but thank you." He tilts his head.

"For?"

"For saving me." His face softens.

"You're welcome." He pats my good shoulder in what I'm sure is an attempt to display affection, though he's quite awkward about it. Then he exits. I sit up slowly.

"Take it easy, don't push yourself too hard," Doctor White says.

"I'm just sitting up, I have no intention to go anywhere," I reply.

"I'll bet you're hungry. Let me fix you something."

"Thank you, Doctor."

Over the course of the next week, the doctor continually checks my wound, in addition to tending to some others from the fight that were overlooked. While I've been focused on healing and rebuilding strength, I realize that I've not written in my journal. So, I sit down to write.

 _September 23, 1783_

 _Truth be told, I am surprised to be alive to write this. A week ago, or I suppose five days to be precise, I was prepared for the worst. I had expected that Connor would have killed me. Maybe a part of me hoped he would. Alas, I live._

 _Do not get me wrong, I have no death wish. What I do have, however, is sentiment that has only grown. I feel more for my son than I thought possible for my hardened heart. Whether he feels the same or not is irrelevant, I cannot ignore such a strong love. And if one of us were to die, I would rather it be me._

 _I have spent the past few days in the residence of the local doctor, Doctor White. He is quite concerned about my condition and insists that I not be moved until I have recovered more. I am grateful to have him in charge of my care. I have faith that in no time I will be well enough to move to the inn._

 _My previous entry was said to be my last. I expected it would be, as I mentioned. Yet here I sit, writing in my journal. I have had much time to ponder my predicament. Why did Connor choose to spare me? More importantly, what happens next? Will we go back to not speaking to each other? I fear so, since he has not come back to see me since I awoke. It wasn't love, then, that inspired him to rescue me. Or even weakness. That is one thing we do not have in common. Most likely, it was what he believed to be mercy._

 _Charles and I have not seen eye to eye lately, more so than ever before. Likely he has assumed me dead and taken charge as Grand Master. If nothing else, this could be a chance to retire, and maybe find some sliver of happiness in the time I have left. Though I fear that Charles will not live long, thanks to Connor. If he does, I worry he may become corrupt like so many others I've seen. But if I return to Virginia without a trace, will I ever even know?_

 _All I know is that I grow weary. Is it from the life of betrayal I have faced, the feeling of utter failure, loneliness, or just old age? Perhaps all of these. Maybe one day I'll find something to make up for all that has gone wrong in my life. Happiness, maybe. Inner peace, at the very least. Perhaps now I can turn over a new leaf. Haytham Kenway gone, never to be seen again. I guess I will wait and see._

I lean back and sigh, letting the ink dry in my journal. So much is on my mind, but one thing stands out: Connor. I hope that, wherever life takes me, Connor will be in my life. I care so much about him. Templar and Assassin aside, that is my son. My beloved son.


	14. Chapter 14

**So here is the next chapter! I know I mentioned in an earlier chapter that this fic was going to be long, but I think I may just wrap this one up and make a sequel. Don't know yet though. (Feel free to give me your opinions..?) Anyway, hope you guys enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

 **Connor POV**

I make my way down the hill, pretending I have no destination in mind. It is clear where I want to go though, and when I reach Doctor White's house I have to quit pretending that I wasn't headed here the whole time. Father woke up nearly two weeks ago, and I haven't visited him since. I want to check on him, but a part of me is worried he won't be glad to see me. He seemed quite bitter when I was there before, and while I can't completely blame him, it still hurts. I miss him.

I extend my arm to knock on the door, then pause. I don't want to see him, I tell myself. He'll just want to argue or will in some way anger me. Besides, he hasn't asked for me, so I would be unwelcome. I sigh, then turn to go. I hear the door open behind me.

"Connor, wait," Doctor White calls. I stop and face him.

"Yes?" I ask.

"Why don't you come in? He's getting pretty lonely."

"He does not wish to see me."

"He's been asking for you." I raise my eyebrows. That is a surprise.

"He… has?"

"He has. He'll ask me to fetch you, but then changes his mind because he doesn't think you want to see him. He believes you hate him, or you'd have been back."

"Did he say that?"

"Many times." I sigh and go inside.

"Hey." Father looks up from a book, surprise on his face.

"Connor? What brings you?" I pull a chair by his bedside and sit.

"You." Father sets the book aside and sits up.

"What's on your mind, son?"

"I just… wanted to see you."

"Is there something wrong with me that the doctor isn't telling me?"

"No, why?"

"Well, in case you hadn't noticed, it's been two weeks since I woke up. He said you were in here constantly waiting for me to. So I figured the only reason you would be here was if you had cause to worry, not that I understand why you would."

"I… I was afraid to return…"

"Why? Am I gonna jump out of bed and attack you in my condition?"

"No! Do you understand anything?"

"What do you mean?"

"I was afraid of being right."

"Will you make sense boy? Right about what?"

"About you wanting me dead! About you using my stupidity and softness and… naïveté… to just hurt me and kill me. About you… about you hating me as much as I think you do."

"Connor, the only reason I fought you—"

"Was to protect Lee. Him and your stupid Order. You would have killed me without a hint of hesitation. Yet here you are, alive only because I was scared of losing you." I sigh. "I should have left you to die. I should have known better than to think you'll ever be more than my sworn enemy." With that, I leave, my heart heavy.

 **Haytham POV**

I watch Connor go, feeling miserable. I really have done wrong by him, and now he'll never forgive me. I'm so confused and hurt.

I sit up slowly, holding my shoulder. I push myself to my feet. I know I can't be up for long, but I wish to talk to Achilles. Perhaps a fatal choice, but what does it matter if it is? It's not like I'm enjoying life much anyway. I take a deep breath and head out the door. After a short walk, I reach the mansion. I hesitate momentarily before knocking on the door.

I await an answer for a couple moments before Achilles opens the door. Oddly enough, I take pity on the old man. He looks worse than Connor let on. It will quite frankly be a shock if he lives much longer.

"Haytham," Achilles says.

"Achilles," I reply, hoping there's some warmth in my voice.

"Connor isn't here."

"I'm not surprised. It's actually you I came to see."

"Well you wasted your time. I do not wish to speak to you. You're lucky I let you stay on my land at all."

"Please, I just want a word with you." He sighs.

"Fine, come in. I have no desire to argue."

"Thank you." I enter the house and close the door behind me. I follow the old man into the kitchen, and he sits down.

"Have a seat, Kenway." I comply, relieved for some rest. I won't pretend the trip here didn't tire me out. "So, why is it you're here?"

"I wanted to…" I pinch the bridge of my nose. Since I met Connor, there was much I wanted to say to Achilles. How good a job he did raising the boy. What a good fighter he is. Even questions about who Connor is. I've been dying to talk to him about these subjects, but that's not why I came today.

"Spit it out, don't be shy all of a sudden."

"Why _am_ I here?"

"I don't think I understand."

"I mean, on the homestead. Why am I here?"

"Connor brought you, the doctor here has served us well."

"I know that. But why? Why spare me?"

"Because he is a fool, and at the end of the day still has much growing up to do. He let his emotional attachment cloud his judgment."

"Except he hates me." Achilles just laughs. "I'm sorry, I fail to see the humor."

"He doesn't hate you, you fool. You've hurt him numerous times. And he is bitter, there's no denying that. He wants to convince me, you, himself, and everyone else that he hates you. But if you honestly believe he does, you aren't as smart as I thought you were."

"You really think he doesn't hate me?"

"He should, he has every right to, the way you treat him. But he cares so much about you. You didn't see him here when you two formally met, or any time throughout the course of your truce, but he was so happy to even get the chance to know you. He struggled so much with the fear of having to kill you."

"You're not serious."

"I am, the boy looks up to you. All I have to say is, you'd better treat him right. He deserves to be loved."

"You love him."

"Yes, but in case you couldn't tell, my days are numbered. When I die, I don't know if he has anyone else. I don't like you, Haytham, I never have. But I'm asking you to be a good father to him. Don't hurt him anymore."

"I don't want to hurt him, Achilles, but how can I choose between him and the Templar Order? I've been loyal to it my whole life, I can't abandon it because of him."

"That is not my place to tell you how to live your life. But if you choose the Templars over your son, then don't be surprised if he truly does come to hate you." I sigh.

"I wish there was an easy choice."

"It seems there never is in life."

As he finishes that comment, the front door opens and closes. Achilles sighs and leans back in his chair. Connor enters the kitchen frowning. I try and ignore the fact that he's wearing a scarf around his neck, and this is the only time that I ever have seen him wear one. He's covering the bruises, though surely by now they're nearly healed.

"Okay, first of all you both should be in bed resting. Secondly, what is going on here? You two hate each other," Connor says.

"Oh, you worry too much," Achilles says.

"I have reason to worry."

"Your father and I were just having a friendly chat. Right, Haytham?"

"Yes, nothing of concern, son," I say.

"Well that's just lovely, but perhaps you should both be a bit more focused on getting better before you have a friendly chat, hm?" Connor says.

"Fine, I'm going to bed," Achilles says, and Connor helps him. They leave the kitchen, and I hear them talk briefly before Connor returns.

"Come on, Father. Let's get you back to Doc's place."

"Fine, fine," I say. I get up and walk to the front door. While Connor doesn't touch me, I feel him hovering right behind me in case I need help.

Which it turns out I do. The moment I step outside, I get really dizzy. I stumble and nearly fall down the steps, but Connor catches me.

"Hey, easy, Father. Take it easy," he says. I lean on him for just a moment, holding my head. "You okay? Can you walk?"

"I'm fine, Connor. I'm okay," I insist before continuing. But Connor keeps ahold of my arm the rest of the way.

"Haytham, there you are!" Doctor White says as Connor and I enter.

"I just wanted to stretch my legs a bit." I sit back down. Connor's hand lingers on my arm for a few moments before he moves it back to his side.

"At least Connor was with you."

"Only long enough to drag him back here," Connor says.

"Yet I made it back in one piece," I say.

"You aren't strong enough to walk around, especially not by yourself," the doctor says.

"I'm sick of just laying here. My shoulder is the problem, not my legs."

"But you are going to hurt yourself if you keep walking around before you're well," Connor says.

"What do you care? I thought you said you should have left me to die."

"And why do you think I didn't, hm? I care about you, you idiot."

"You know, I have some things to take care of. When I return, you better be here, Haytham," Doctor White says.

"I will," I reply. The doctor leaves, and Connor sighs.

"He's right," he says.

"What?"

"He wants us to talk, and clearly we need to."

"About what?"

"Father, we cannot go on like this."

"I don't even know where to begin." Connor sits down next to me.

"You know I do not hate you, right?"

"No, I don't think I do know that. Achilles is convinced you don't, but I can't help thinking you do."

"Why would I have gone to the trouble of saving you if I hated you?"

"I don't know, probably your weird version of mercy."

"Honestly, if I hated you I would have gotten rid of you on my ship and been done with it. Did you not think of that?"

"I did, which is why I'm confused." He sighs.

"Father, I have no wish to see you dead. Even if you do not care about me at all, I could not bear losing you."

"Son, I do care about you. I know I'm not the best at showing it—"

"You've tried to kill me countless times!"

"None of which without cause."

"What if I hadn't stabbed you the other night? Would I be dead?" I look at the scarf around his neck, then down at my hands.

"Probably."

"You don't even have anything to say for yourself?"

"If I had killed you that night, it would have been your own fault. I tried, Connor. YOU pushed me away, in case you don't recall. I saw to it you were unharmed the whole time we worked together. Hell, we only worked together in the first place because I wanted to give you a chance, in hopes you'd give me one as well. And you pushed me away."

"Only because you lied to me and kept secrets! I told you about my mother's death, and you had the guts to act surprised to hear about it. But you knew it happened, and you knew it was Washington. For all I know, you knew about his plan to attack my village."

"I absolutely did not! I would have told you right away."

"So you say, yet you should have told me right away that Washington was responsible for my mother's death. Why should I believe the two cases are different to you?"

"Because if I had known about Washington's plans prior, we could have put an end to it before it ever began. The fire was a done thing, irrevocable. However, I would like to mention that I did not originally know your mother was dead. I knew of the fire and its cause, but upon meeting you I assumed you two escaped together. I only put the pieces together after you told me."

"So you should have told me what happened instead of insisting that Charles Lee was innocent without any explanation or proof. You should have told me what happened because I had the right to know!"

"Please, you idolized Washington. You looked up to him and respected him more than anyone I knew of and despised me. You would have just thought it was a lie."

" _Another_ lie, you mean. And still, you should have at least tried to tell me. Maybe I wouldn't have believed you, but it would have made me think. I would have questioned Washington about it or researched it another way. Maybe the whole situation could have been avoided in the first place, and my friend would be alive. My people would still be here, safe and happy as they should be."

"Look, I know I handled it wrong, but my actions were not without cause. Still, after everything, you'd just push me away? Why then should I have held back when we were fighting for what we believe?"

"Charles Lee is a monster. And he deserves death."

"Oh, and am I a monster as well? After all, you said that all he does he does by my command. So I'm just as guilty?"

"You know what? No, we are not arguing about Charles Lee. He is not important." I sigh.

"Connor. Listen, I am willing to put the past behind us, but you have to decide if that's what you want. You cannot be pointing fingers at me one minute and the next tell me that I hate you. I cannot not simultaneously be in your life and stay away from you. Make up your mind son."

"Well, maybe I did overreact…"

"And I truly am sorry about not telling you sooner."

"I forgive you." I smile.

"And you know, Connor, I _do_ love you." Connor closes his eyes tightly. I know he's been needing to hear those words from me, maybe he's been dying to hear them since he was a child. He opens his eyes and looks at me, and a lone tear escapes. My poor boy, I've done wrong by him not saying that sooner.

"I… I should go check on Achilles." Connor gets up and heads to the door. I know that he's worried about crying in front of me. But I'm not giving up on this moment. I get up and catch his arm, and he faces me. I wipe away the tear that had trailed down his cheek.

"Just once, is it okay if we both are vulnerable?" I ask in a whisper.

"Well… maybe just this once." Connor outstretches his arms, and I accept the hug.

"I want to try harder, son. Saying those words shouldn't make you cry. They should be something you already know for fact."

"I love you too, Father," Connor whispers. I only hold him tighter.


	15. Chapter 15

**Okay guys, first things first I want to announce that I've decided to wrap this up within a few more chapters and then do a sequel. Haven't decided on a name for it or anything, but I'll be sure to let ya'll know by the epilogue. I think that I'll do like, two more chapters after this one. With that said, I have done some foreshadowing throughout this story that will go into the next, so some events and characters will make more sense in part two. Now, enjoy the chapter!**

* * *

 **Haytham POV**

I am so incredibly bored. It's been six days since Connor and I made up, and shortly after that the doctor had me moved to the inn. The past couple days, Connor has been my only source of entertainment, but he left this morning with one of the people from the town to go hunt. While I'm officially off bedrest, I don't know anyone here, and what I can do is limited. However, after about an hour of doing exactly nothing, I decide to go for a walk.

I put on my coat, then frown. This is the first time I'm putting it on since the fight, and I hadn't realized how huge the whole is. I may have to just replace it. I sigh and head out.

I wander down the path for a few minutes. It is a nice day. A little chilly, but not quite cold. Though considering it is the beginning of October, winter will be here soon. I'm not particularly looking forward to it, but at the same time I do prefer the cold over the hot.

"Hello there," someone says from behind me, breaking me from my thoughts. I turn around.

"Uh, hello," I reply.

"My name is Terry. You're Haytham, right? Connor's dad?"

"Yes, that would be me."

"Good to see you on your feet. The lad has been worried."

"Well, it is certainly good to be able to be up. I'm not a fan of staying cooped up in bed."

"If you're anything like your son, I wouldn't doubt it." He gestures to the tear in my coat. "That from the wound?"

"This? Yes. It's a shame, I might have to replace it."

"Nah, I bet Ellen can fix it."

"Who?"

"Ellen, our seamstress. I'll take you to her, if you like."

"By all means."

We walk in silence to Ellen's house. I cross my hands behind my back as I follow. When we arrive, Terry knocks on the door. After a few moments, a woman opens it.

"Hi Ellen," Terry says.

"Terry, hello. Who's your friend?"

"This is Haytham Kenway, Connor's father."

"Good to meet you, Mister Kenway."

"You as well, miss...?" I reply.

"Just call me Ellen."

"Okay, then I insist you just call me Haytham."

"What can I do for you then, Haytham?"

"His coat has a giant hole in it, you think you can fix it?" Terry says.

"Come inside, let me see."

"Thank you," I say as I follow Terry inside.

"Can you take the coat off, so I can see it?"

"Of course." I remove it and hand it to her. She looks at it for a few moments. "Well?"

"I can fix it, if you want. But it is a rather large hole."

"I know. Will that be a problem?"

"No, not at all, just may take some time to repair it without it being noticeable."

"Well, I have time. I'm still waiting for the hole in my shoulder to heal."

"What happened, if you don't mind me asking?"

"It's… complicated."

"I heard you and Connor had a death match. Is that true?" Terry asks.

"Something like that."

"A death match?" Ellen asks.

"Well, I wouldn't exactly call it that, but it's not far off from what happened."

"Why?"

"I don't know if I can say. I'm not sure what all you know about his life."

"Not any details, but I've seen the way he uses all those weapons he carries, and I know he and Achilles are bot part of some group that fights and kills for freedom."

"Something like that. I'm technically his enemy."

"Oh…"

"Then why did he spare you?" Terry asks.

"Well… because at the end of the day, I'm still his father, and we both do care about each other. Without getting into any details, just know we're working on sorting our differences," I say.

"I see…"

"Well, the important thing is I'll have this fixed up for you as soon as possible," Ellen says.

"Thank you," I reply.

"Of course, Haytham. Say hello to your son for me." I smile.

"I will." With that, Terry and I leave. Just as soon as we do, I notice a larger man approaching us, grinning.

"Terry, there you are! I been looking all over for you!" He says with a grin. I smile slightly, he seems like such a warm and cheery fellow.

"Look who's up and about, Godfrey," Terry says, gesturing to me. The man, Godfrey I'm assuming, turns his attention to me.

"You must be Haytham Kenway, am I right?" How do these people recognize me?

"I am," I say.

"Where are your manners, you giant ape? This here is Godfrey," Terry says. I smile warmly and extend my hand.

"Pleasure." He grins and shakes my hand.

"Listen to him, British through and through. It's good to meet you too," Godfrey says. What does that even mean…?

"Do not mistake me for one of the king's."

"Oh, don't worry. I know."

"So, what do you do around here? I'm under the impression everyone has some skill set or trade they contribute to the community, right?"

"Yeah, Connor built quite the community. We both are lumberjacks, we've worked together for years."

"I see. What other trades are there?"

"Well, we have a huntress, a miner, a couple farmers, a blacksmith, a seamstress, a woodworker, a pastor, the couple who runs the inn, and then of course the doc."

"What a well-rounded group."

"For sure. Say, would you like to meet everyone? You've been the talk off the town."

"Me? Why?"

"What, you think that Connor's dad would come to our village with a serious wound and not be? Everyone is wondering why we've never met you, how you managed to injure yourself so bad, not to mention the feud between you and your son."

"So I'm the topic of gossip, is what you're saying."

"You're famous, is what you are." I sigh.

"I guess I've nothing better to do. My only other choice would be to wait around at the inn and hope Connor comes by when he's through hunting. Why not?"

"Great!"

"Do you suppose you could take me to the blacksmith first? I have something I wish to see if he can repair."

"Of course, Mister Kenway. Follow me." Godfrey turns and begins walking, and Terry and I follow.

After about three minutes of walking, I can begin to hear the sound of metal pounding metal echoing around us. We must be close. Sure enough, the blacksmith is soon in our sight, hammering away at something. When he spots us, he stops and wipes his brow.

"Hello gentlemen! Who's your friend?" he asks.

"This is Haytham Kenway," Terry says.

"Connor's dad, right? It's nice to finally meet you. Name's Big Dave. I'd shake your hand, but as you can see, they're a bit dirty."

"No problem, it's nice to meet you," I say.

"Mister Kenway has something here he'd like you to look at," Godfrey says.

"Oh? What can I do for you, Mister Kenway?" Big Dave asks.

"Please, just Haytham. And it's a blade that's been damaged. I was wondering if you'd be able to repair it," I reply, removing my hidden blade. I'm not sure why I had it on, but I'm glad I did.

"Oh, yeah, this isn't too bad. I had to fix one of these for Connor before. I just need to get my hands on the right metal."

"I bet Norris has it, don't you think?" Godfrey asks.

"It's possible, but this one is slightly different than Connor's. I'll have to see if he does."

"We can go ask, Haytham needs to meet everyone," Terry says.

"He needs to?"

"You know everyone has been dying to meet him."

"But does he want to? He's probably still tired, I know a wound like what he had can take a lot out of a person. Haytham, don't let them drag you around if you don't want to."

"It's no big deal. I am interested to see the town my son loves and worked so hard to build. Besides, he's out hunting, so there's little else I could do anyway," I reply.

"Well then, by all means. Say, if you see that boy of yours, could you send him my way? I've got something for him."

"Of course. It was a pleasure to meet you."

"You too, take care now." I nod, then we began walking again.

"I guess that means you get to meet the miner next. He's actually the husband of the huntress Connor is hunting with right now," Terry explains.

"Interesting," I say as we approach the mine. When it gets into sight, I suddenly get an uneasy feeling. "Wait. Something is wrong."

"What is it?' Godfrey asks.

"I'm not sure… stay behind me." I rest my hand on my gun and approach the mine quickly, the other two just behind me.

"Where is he?" A voice yells from inside the mine.

"I… I don't know!" a nervous voice replies. He has a thick French accent, and I'm assuming he's Norris. Who's interrogating the locals?

"Yes you do! Give me Connor!"

I pull the gun out and lean around a corner. There is a man towering over another, bloodier man. I sneak up and swipe his feet out from under him, then point my gun at his head. He raises his hands slowly.

"Who are you? What business do you have with Connor?" I demand.

"Haytham? You're supposed to be dead!" he replies, and I just smirk.

"Sorry to disappoint. Now answer the question."

"Your son has meddled in too many things. He must die. If you kill me, more will return."

"Who do you work for?"

"Nice try, Kenway. Better luck next time." He takes a drink of a green colored fluid, then dies within seconds.

"Dammit."

"Norris! Are you okay?" Godfrey asks as he helps the bloody man to his feet.

"I think so, he just really roughed me up. Thank you, Mister Kenway," he says.

"Of course. Let's get you to a doctor to get your wounds tended to," I reply. Godfrey helps the man as we walk out of the mine.

"My name is Norris, by the way."

"Haytham, though I guess you gathered as much." Norris chuckles.

"Yeah, I did. I'm lucky you showed up when you did. You must let me buy you a drink when I'm done at the doctor's."

"No need, friend. Besides, I need to find my boy and warn him." We step out of the mine, and then freeze. I'm met with a gun to my face and am suddenly glad I happened to be in front.

"I don't think you're warning him anything. You ain't supposed to be alive, and I think I ought to be rectifying that," the gunman says.

"Don't be so certain." I quickly disarm the man and punch him hard in the face. Only after I do so do I realize I used my bad arm. I ignore the pain in my shoulder as I point a gun at him.

"Ah, dammit."

"Indeed. Who do you people work for?"

"Please, if you think I'm telling you anything you're wrong. We both know you'll kill me either way."

"Do we?"

"Well, you won't get nothing from me!" He lunges at me, and instead of shooting him I merely deflect his attack. "You won't even shoot me? What have you got to lose?"

"I don't need to shoot you to outmatch you." He swings his fist, and I grab it and twist it behind his back.

"I've got other ways." He elbows me in the stomach, then slams his fist into my wounded shoulder. I gasp and release him. Before I regain my composure, he pulls out a knife goes around me. I shoot him just before he reaches the three who'd been behind me.

"Fuck," I say, dropping the gun and holding my shoulder.

"Are you okay?" Terry asks.

"I… think so… I wonder how many more there are."

"I don't know, but we need to get moving. Norris needs medical attention, and so do you by the looks of it." I grimace and nod.

"You may be right. But it seems I really need to find Connor to handle this situation."

"Absolutely not, you're in no condition. To be fair, you already weren't but after you strained yourself fighting those two… you're even less so," Godfrey says.

"So what would you have me do? Let who knows how many men harass people until they find him? I don't want that for the people of the town any more than I want my son in danger without at least knowing."

"I'll go find him while the three of you go to the doctor. Locating him shouldn't be too hard, but I don't happen to need medical attention," Terry says. I frown.

"I don't know…"

"Look, Haytham, it'll be fine. You are hurt," Godfrey says.

"Fine, but when you've found him, I want you to find me and let me know. If I'm not still at the doctor's house, I'll be at the inn."

"Of course, now go along!" Terry says before taking off in a run.

"Let's go."

We leave to go to the doctor's house. I follow along behind Godfrey, holding my shoulder. I really hurt it, and I'm not sure if it's more from me using it or the man punching it. Finally, we reach the doctor's house. I step ahead of the other two and knock on the door.

"Come in," Doctor White says. I open the door. He looks up, and sees Norris being brought it. "Put him on this bed here." Godfrey does as instructed.

"Haytham will need looked at too," Godfrey says as the doctor tends to Norris.

"It's not serious, I probably just need some more pain medicine," I say.

"I'll be the judge of that. So what did you gentlemen get into?" Doctor White asks.

"Someone attacked Norris looking for Connor, I came and dealt with it." The doctor looks at me disapprovingly for a moment.

"You are in no condition to do such a thing and you know it."

"I had little choice. It's not like I planned to fight someone today."

"Fight?"

"Well, yeah, I tried to just point my gun, but one of them attacked me."

"So you got into an actual fight? Haytham, I understand that there was an extenuating circumstance, but you cannot be fighting people if you intend to heal."

"I'm fine, doctor." He rolls his eyes.

"God, you sound so much like Connor."

"I will take that as a compliment, considering how much all of you seem to like him."

"Take it as you will, but if you don't stay out of trouble I will put you back on bedrest." I roll my eyes.

"If he's anything like Connor, I don't think you could force him to stay in bed," Norris says.

"Well, you may be right. Anyway, how is the shoulder, Haytham? You haven't come to see me since you left."

"It's been healing fine," I say.

"You are changing the bandages daily?"

"Of course."

"Good. Hopefully it's still okay after your little encounter. Anyway, you're all done Norris. Go get some rest, and you'll be fine."

"Thank you, Doctor White," Norris says as he stands up. He pays the doctor.

"Come here, Haytham, it's your turn."

"Okay," I say.

"Hey, Norris and I are gonna go to the inn's tavern. Meet us there when you're done here, okay?" Godfrey says.

"Okay." They exit, and I sit in front of the doctor.

"Take off your shirt," he says. I comply. He unwraps the wound, then frowns. I look over at it and see it's bloody. "This is a mess. You really should stay out of trouble." He gets to work cleaning it.

"I guess that does explain why it hurts so much…"

"Well, you're not going to like this."

"What?"

"You broke the stitch, Haytham." I sigh.

"I didn't think it was a big deal."

"Well, now you can see it is. I'm going to have to redo it. I hope you're happy."

"Overjoyed. Let's get this over with."

"Here, you're going to want to drink some alcohol, since you're conscious." I take the bottle that he's offering and drink.

"I almost forgot, what do I owe you from before?"

"Nothing, your son paid me."

"Oh. How much?"

"He said not to tell you. But don't worry, I'm going to have to charge for this."

"Of course."

"You should drink that quicker. You're going to want as much of it in you as possible." I look at it and chug. As I finish the bottle, Doctor White returns with the equipment, "Are you ready?"

"As I'll ever be." He hesitates.

"Would you rather wait until Connor is here?"

"I would rather get it over with."

"Okay. Lay down, then." I comply.

Doctor White begins cleaning the area, and I hear him mumble about infection. After some time of him working to clean the infection, he finally begins to remove the stitches in my shoulder and replacing them. I am a bit tipsy, but it still hurts like hell. Still, I say nothing, knowing I did do this to myself.

"There, done," Doctor White says. "Sit up so I can rewrap it."

"That didn't take long," I say as I sit up.

"Well it has healed, so I didn't have to do as much as before. But I mean it, you should be careful."

"I will."

"Your son tells me the same, yet he still winds up in here frequently." I grin.

"Like father, like son."

I pay for the procedure after he finishes, along with some pain medicine. I thank him and leave, heading to the tavern to meet with Norris and Godfrey. I enter and scan the crowd. I see them at a table near the center. I decide to order a drink, then make my way toward them. I notice Terry sitting down with them just before I get there.

"There you are!" Norris says.

"Sorry, the doctor had to redo my stitches," I say as I join them. "Just a warning, I think I'm tipsy. So Terry, I take it you found Connor?"

"Yes, a while ago. He and Myriam are searching the homestead for more of them," Terry says.

"Okay."

"Why did you have to get your stitches redone? I didn't think you did too much," Godfrey says. I shrug.

"I don't know. It probably didn't help that I fought with my bad arm mostly."

"Wow, is this the brilliant Haytham Kenway Connor's always talking about?"

"I wasn't thinking. But I suppose it wasn't the smartest thing. Wait, what do you mean?"

"About what?"

"Connor talks about me?"

"All the time!" Norris says.

"He thinks the world of you, you know. Says you're the smartest and most skilled man he's ever met," Terry adds.

"No way," I say in disbelief.

"He does, honest!" Godfrey says. I smile.

"Good to know."

"Oh, here come the farmers. They sell produce to the inn." I look over my shoulder at the couple speaking with the innkeeper. They turn around and, after Norris waves them over, they come to our table.

"Hello gentlemen," the woman says.

"Hi Prudence. Meet Haytham, Connor's dad. Haytham, this is Warren and Prudence," Terry says.

"Pleasure to meet you, Haytham," Warren says. I stand up and shake their hands.

"The pleasure is mine," I say.

"We'd love to stay and chat, but I'm afraid we have more business to attend to. Perhaps sometime you can come by and talk, though," Prudence says.

"I would love to take you up on that."

"Maybe bring your son, too. He spends so little time on the homestead we never see him."

"I will try. Good day."

"To you as well." The couple leaves, and I sit back down.

"I like it here. You all are so friendly."

"We try. We love visitors," Godfrey says.

"So I see. I know not everyone here lives in these parts."

"Oh, no. Quite a few are traders or sailors. We even get people here who work for Connor, transporting goods that he sells."

"Interesting." I lift my glass. "Well here's to the success and happiness of the locals." To that, we all drink.

I find myself drinking more and more. Soon the pain in my shoulder is gone, and my spirits are high.

* * *

 **So that was kind of long, sorry about that. I just really feel like a lot of fanfics forget about the townspeople, and I wanted to include them. I hope ya'll liked it!**


	16. Chapter 16

**Connor POV**

The sun set about an hour ago. After scoping out the area and assuring there was no one else here with ill will, we go to Myriam's to drop off her part of the bounty we collected. Upon discovering Norris was not there, we go to the tavern, hoping to find him there. Though from what Terry told me, he ought to be in bed resting.

Sure enough though, he's here. Myriam and I walk in the door, and I instantly notice Father at a table in the center with Godfrey, Terry, and Norris. Father is talking about something, and the rest of the table are laughing. I smile, it's good to see he's having a good time. But it's also weird, I've never seen him so lighthearted. Myriam and I approach the table.

"Gentlemen. Father," I say. They all look up at me, and Father grins.

"Connor!" he says and stands up. He gives me a big bear hug, nearly knocking me over.

"What are you—" I begin, then frown when the strong smell of alcohol crashes into me at the same time Father does. Never mind then.

"Sorry about him, he got a bit drunk," Godfrey says.

"So I see," I say, patting Father's back before getting him back in his chair. "How did you manage to get him drunk and all stay sober yourselves?"

"We didn't do anything, the man just kept drinking and drinking. I think it might be because he's sore from getting the stitches redone."

"What? Why?"

"He messed them up fighting those guys earlier." I sigh, but Father chuckles.

"I messed those guys up woorsse!" Father says. I roll my eyes.

"I'm sure you did, Father," I reply. He tosses his head back in laughter, and I smile.

"You know Connor, we all worry about you. This is only proof of how dangerous your life is," Terry says.

"My only regret is that you got brought into it."

"Well, it was a long day. Norris, let's go home. You two should get back to your wives too," Myriam says.

"She is right."

"Alright, see you guys later," Norris says. He pats Father on the back, and he and Myriam leave.

"Bye Connor. See you later, Haytham," Godfrey says as he and Terry leave. Terry simply waves, and Father waves back.

"Come on, Father. Let's get you to bed," I say.

"But—"

"But nothing, don't you dare argue with me." He lets me get him to his feet, then leans against me. He's barely supporting any of his own weight as I take him to the stairs We slowly ascend.

"I like them, Connor," he says tiredly.

"I am glad. Did you have a nice day?"

"Yeah, except for the stitches."

"You should have thought of that when you decided to play the hero." Father just laughs, and I know it's just because he's drunk, but still I can't help but smile. I like when he laughs, and it's not a sound I hear much of.

Finally, we make it to the room. I have to dig around in his pockets in search of the key, since he's being _so_ helpful. I find it and unlock the door, then help Father into bed. He practically falls into it, and I roll my eyes before forcing him to sit back up. I remove his weapons, noticing his hidden blade is damaged. I sigh and set it aside with the others.

"Where is your coat?" I ask, squatting down to remove his shoes as I do.

"I don't remember," Father says. I look up at him, realizing he seems even more out of it. He needs sleep.

"I see."

"We… should go find it."

"No, it is fine. We will find it tomorrow." I stand up and take his hat off. "Lay back down."

"No!" I frown.

"No? Why not?"

"I want you to give me a real hug." I roll my eyes.

"I hugged you downstairs."

"No, I hugged you, you didn't hug me back." I sigh and bend down to hug him briefly. But when I go to move away, he tightens his grip.

"Gosh, you're so clingy when you're drunk."

"I just love you so much." I grin. Hearing those words means so much to me, even though he's drunk.

"I love you too, Father." He runs his hand though my hair.

"Your hair is soft." I sigh.

"Um, thanks? Now lay down." He lets me go and complies.

"Goodnight, Connor."

"Goodnight. Sleep well." I smile as he falls asleep. I love seeing him so peaceful. When I'm sure he's out, I leave for the manor.

* * *

 **Connor POV**

I'm sitting in my room, reading a book. I feel so at peace, things seem to be going right, finally. It's been a week since Father's incident at the mine, and since then I've spent every day with him. He got his stitches removed yesterday. I'm pleased with how well he's healing.

I think I'm going to propose a truce like I had planned to before Father and I quit working together. I think after everything we've been through, he will agree. And it will give me insurance that we won't have to fight… again.

I hear a knock at the door, and grin. I was wondering when he would come. I get up and go about halfway down the stairs. Achilles was on his way to the door, but then stops when he sees me.

"Tell him I'm not here," I say. He frowns.

"What do you have up your sleeve?" He replies.

"My arms."

"Hilarious."

"Please?"

"Fine." He goes and answers the door. "Haytham. What do you want now?"

"Where is my bone-headed child?" Father asks, nearly growling. I have to force myself not to laugh, he got more upset than I thought.

"Said child, who by the way is now a man, is not here. What did he do to make you so angry?"

"I'll tell you what! He decided it would be funny to steal my hat and gloves."

"Is that all?"

"All? My hat is very important to me, I'll have you know. It's older than Connor is by at least five years. He thinks he can take my belongings—"

"Look on the bright side, he's joking with you. That's a good sign, you know."

"I'm not amused! If you see him, tell him he will rue the day he messed with me!"

"You are so dramatic. We both know you won't do anything."

"That depends on him. Good day." Achilles closes the door and turns to look at me. I come down the rest of the way.

"That's why you wanted me to tell him you weren't here? You're such a child."

"Maybe, but did you see how mad he was? That's hilarious," I say. My grin fades when Achilles starts roughly coughing. "Maybe you should lie down…"

"Perhaps you're right." I help him to bed, then sit next to him.

"Are you feeling worse?"

"I'm afraid so. I'm sorry Connor, I don't think I'll get any better."

"You will. You have to." He sighs and pats my arm.

"Go on, boy. Go mess with your father." I get up and walk outside.

But I'm not having fun anymore, not with worrying about Achilles.

"There you are, you little—" Father begins.

"Take your stupid hat, and your gloves too," I say, handing them to him. He puts them on.

"And what is the matter with you?"

"He's not getting better." His face softens from anger to sympathy.

"Son—"

"It's not fair! Why should he have to die?"

"That's life, Connor. It happens. I'm sorry."

"But… I can't lose him." Father just puts his hand on my shoulder reassuringly. I take a deep breath. "How are you feeling?"

"So much better than I had. I think I'm ready to travel, if I can get the doctor to say okay."

"Good to hear. We need to talk, though."

"About?"

"Business."

"Fine, but can we go inside? It's getting rather chilly out."

"Yeah, come on in." We go inside and into the kitchen. Once I make us both some tea, I sit at the table with him.

"What's on your mind, son?"

"I…" I look into my tea. I am worried about him thinking the idea is silly still.

"Yes?" I look at him and think about how the last time I didn't go through with this, I nearly lost him. And that gives me new determination.

"I want to start a truce. A more permanent one."

"You do?"

"Yes. Maybe… order wide." He raises his eyebrows at me.

"And what do you think this will accomplish?"

"You say that mankind doesn't really want freedom. But if not, why do we always fight when oppressed? You say there is no peace with freedom, but what if there can be? With control comes tyranny, and with tyranny injustice. Wouldn't it be better to be free and equal?"

"But it is not achievable. Humans are weak, cruel, and selfish. Without someone to guide them, there will be chaos."

"You want peace, as do I. I think that's a good foundation for a truce. But you believe that the only way to get there is by taking control, being the puppeteer. But I believe that with freedom comes peace. Now, I'm not arguing anything with you. I do see that at times people can be cruel if given their own will. But would you say slavery is okay, just because someone needs to lead others?"

"God, no. I oppose it whole heartedly. Now, we do both also oppose tyranny. But I think you have come to a misunderstanding. The Templars are not tyrants, as you think we are. We wish to guide with our control, not oppress. I do not have a problem with free will and actions, only injustice. Too much liberty is no more than an invitation to chaos. When we win the war, do you think they won't establish a government, make new laws?"

"Of course they will."

"And why is that?"

"People need guidelines. Most people just need a consequence that they do not wish to face in order to keep them in line."

"Exactly. Now, there still is corruption in government as well. After all, it is run by people too. Greedy people, most often. We simply wish to hold the positions of power to keep corruption at bay."

"But being the ones in charge, especially if you're the _only_ ones, only puts you in the same position. The Templars are no less human than the civilians trying to create this new country. I see little difference. What will stop the Templars from becoming like King George? After all, power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely." Father sighs.

"You do make a fair point. I suppose I do see why it would be beneficial to have the Assassins working with us to help keep that at bay."

"Yes! We can balance each other out. I think with some work and compromising, we can use both of our ideals and make the world better. Together."

"It is worth a try." I grin.

"Great! I'll send a pigeon to get the word around."

"So you finally agreed on it, did you?" Achilles says as he enters the room.

"Yes. We will have much work to do to figure out just where we'll stand, but I think it'll work out well."

"What makes you so sure the others will agree and support it? They don't have the sentimental reasons behind wanting a truce that the two of you have."

"Perhaps, but we got so much more done together than by ourselves. Imagine if that was order wide?"

"Yes, but imagine the disagreements as well."

"I know, it's not going to be perfect, but it is worth a try." He shrugs.

"Well, I wish you luck. So Haytham, how long are you going to be here?"

"Not long, I don't think. I will head to Boston as soon as the doctor says I'm good to travel," Father answers.

"I see."

"Achilles, you should sit down," I say.

"I'm fine, I was actually going to step outside a moment."

"But…"

"You can't stop me."

"At least put on a coat, it's getting cold."

"Yes, mother." I grin.

"Don't stay out too long." He rolls his eyes and leaves.

"What attitude," Father says.

"I know, right?" We fall silent for about five minutes. I must say, I'm surprised at how comfortably we can be together now. Things really changed after we fought. "Say, Father, why don't you stay for dinner?"

"You know Achilles does not like me. I wouldn't intrude like that."

"But—"

"But nothing, boy." My shoulders slouch.

"Fine…"

"And fix your posture, I don't care that you're upset." I glare at him.

"Don't give me that attitude."

" _You_ don't give _me_ that attitude."

"You think because you're my father you can—"

"Yes, I do." I roll my eyes.

"Children, please. You have no need to argue," Achilles says as he returns. "Haytham, feel free to accept his invitation."

"I wouldn't want to—"

"I can tolerate you for Connor's sake."

"Please?" I say.

"Son, I just don't think it's the best idea. The inn has food I can eat," Father says.

"You finally got out of poor Doc's house, hm?" Achilles asks.

"A couple weeks ago, when he decided I didn't need watched."

"He's been pestering him daily, though, to check up," I say, getting up to prepare food.

"Yes. You guys have an excellent doctor."

"We sure do. And to think, he had such a bad reputation in the city."

"Yes, I recall that actually."

"Poor guy."

"Well, I suppose I should get out of your hair. I'll see you tomorrow?"

"I'm sure. Bye Father."

"Goodbye, son." Father lets himself out. Achilles sits down.

"I do apologize, he would have stayed if it weren't for me," he says.

"I wish you two would get along," I reply.

"I know, but don't expect it to change, boy." I sigh but say nothing. I suppose he is right, and I should just be grateful to have both of them in my life.


	17. Epilogue

**Well, here it is. The epilogue. I hope ya'll enjoyed reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. As I mentioned, there will be a sequel. I've decided to call it "A New Leaf," and it pretty much will pick up right where this one is left off. I have the first chapter nearly ready, so I expect to have it up no later than next weekend. Without further ado, enjoy the last chapter!**

 **Edit: For those of you who've not seen, I've got the new story up! If you liked this story, please go check out the sequel! Thanks!**

* * *

 **Connor POV**

I sit up and sigh. I've been in bed for two hours and have been unsuccessful in sleeping. I get up and put on my robes and shoes, then climb out the window. I need to do something besides toss and turn in that bed. So, I go hunting.

I crouch in a bush, watching my prey. A deer stops by the creek to take a drink. I creep up to it, then quickly strike. After skinning it, I stand upright and sigh.

I should have sorted things with Father long ago. I feel so content now, knowing that things are going to only get better from here. I briefly wonder if he'd be interested in hunting. I think it would be good to do some father-son bonding doing something that doesn't involve pursuing _human_ prey.

I shake my head. I don't know why I'm out here, I simply cannot focus. Father and I have been here for at least a month, and I grow restless. I don't like doing nothing, but I'm not going to abandon him. Maybe I should see if he can leave. After all, the wound is nearly healed, and his energy is up.

I return to the town and enter the tavern. I'm unsurprised to find Doctor White here, though I am surprised to see him accompanied by Norris and Myriam. I approach their table. Norris is the first to notice me, and he grins.

"Connor! Hello!" he says.

"Hello, guys," I say.

"It's a surprise to see you here, Connor, especially at this hour," Myriam says.

"I could not sleep."

"So what brings you here? You don't drink."

"I actually was hoping to run into the doctor."

"Oh? Is there something wrong?" Doctor White asks.

"No, no. I was just going to ask if you thought Father could leave any time soon."

"Oh, well yes. I actually intended to tell him when I see him tomorrow that he's good to travel, though I do hope you go with him. He is well, but not so well that he can get into trouble. And it seems getting into trouble runs in your family." I chuckle.

"Yes, I'm planning to go with him, don't worry."

"Good."

"Thank you, Doctor." I go up the stairs to Father's room, then knock on his door. I do love it here, but I'm certainly ready to get back in action. I'm sure he's eager to get going as well.

"Connor? Have you any idea what time it is?" Father asks, rubbing his eyes after opening the door.

"No, but I have something to tell you," I say, letting myself in. He looks at me for a few moments before speaking.

"Sure, son. Please come in." He closes the door.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to just barge in here."

"Never mind that. What did you want to tell me?"

"You're free to leave! We can start heading to Boston first thing in the morning!" He frowns.

"It is four thirty, Connor. You couldn't have waited three or four more hours to tell me this?"

"I thought you would want to know…"

"And why, pray tell, did the doctor tell you at this ungodly hour?"

"Because I asked. I was heading back home and thought to find him. He's at the tavern, anyway."

"On you way home from where?"

"Why are you interrogating me?"

"I'm just confused why you barged in here so bloody early, or why you're even up."

"I'm sorry, I just thought you were eager to go home. After all, you're almost fully recovered and I'm sure you have plenty to be doing."

"Goodnight, Connor. Go home." I scoff.

"Fine." I head toward the door.

"Son." I stop and face him.

"Yeah?"

"One more day, then we can go. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Sleep well, if that's actually something you do."

"You as well." With that, I leave.

* * *

 **Haytham POV**

I wake up a few hours later to the sound of people chattering downstairs. I get up, rub the sleepiness from my eyes, and get dressed. I go downstairs to get some breakfast.

"Haytham! Good morning!" Someone calls, and I turn to see Norris sitting at a table.

"Good morning, Norris," I say, smiling warmly. I like Norris, and all of the people who live on the homestead for that matter. I wouldn't mind staying here, rather than Boston. If it weren't for Achilles, it's not impossible that I would.

"Care to join me?" I shrug.

"Sure." I order some breakfast, then join him.

"So Connor tells me you're leaving soon."

"Yes, I intend to leave for Boston tomorrow."

"That's a shame, we'll miss having you here. We've grown fond of you."

"Is that a fact?"

"You're a good man, and everyone can see that. Not to mention that since you and Connor worked out whatever your feud was, he's so happy. We're grateful to you for that."

"Well I am glad I've made a good impression. It truly is a shame Achilles can't stand me, else I'd have half a mind to stay."

"Really?"

"I do enjoy it here. Everyone is so friendly, and it's so much nicer than the city. But it would be for the best for me to return."

"You could always come visit us."

"I just might."

"Also, not to intrude on your business, but I think you should take Connor up on him having you for dinner."

"How do you know about that?"

"Connor mentioned it to me. It would mean a lot to him if you did. The old man on the hill won't mind too much."

"Maybe you're right. It couldn't possibly hurt."

* * *

 **Connor POV**

I'm so excited. Father agreed to come over for dinner tonight, and he should be here any minute. I make sure everything is ready, and Achilles rolls his eyes.

"I don't know what you're making such a fuss for. It's not like you haven't spent a lot of time with the man recently," he says.

"I know, but I just want to be a good host is all. Plus it's always nice doing normal things with Father, those times are so rare," I say.

"Still, you seem like you're nervous."

"Maybe I am…" I look at the front door, and through the window I see Father standing there, hesitating. "He does not want to come in, does he?"

"Maybe he's just worried things won't go smoothly."

"Maybe."

"Go let him in." I hesitate, then go open the door. Father inhales sharply, the closest thing to surprise he'll reveal. He does seem nervous, so I smile warmly.

"Hi, Father," I say. He smiles.

"Hi, Connor," he replies.

"Come in." I step aside, and he enters. He rubs his hands together as I lead him to the kitchen. "Cold?"

"Yes, it suddenly got pretty cold out."

"It is going to snow tonight."

"Unlikely, it doesn't usually snow this early."

"We'll see." We enter the kitchen.

"Do you need that hood on?"

"Yes. Now sit." He rolls his eyes and complies.

"Evening, Achilles."

"Good evening," Achilles replies as I set the food on the table. "Connor, take the hood off." I scoff but obey.

"Thank you," Father says, and I ignore that. We begin eating.

"So, Connor, how is the treasure hunt going?"

"Good. I think I know where it is, I just need to go and get it."

"What treasure?" Father asks.

"It belonged to a pirate named Captain Kidd. That's all I know."

"Kidd, huh? My father knew him. Or, rather, her."

"Her?"

"He was really a woman who disguised herself as a man."

"Huh. I did not know that."

"From the way I hear it, she was a pretty nasty pirate. Worked alongside Blackbeard."

"Edward Thatch? No way. Did my grandfather know Thatch too?"

"He did. They were apparently pretty close."

"That is so cool."

"Connor, you know Thatch was one of the cruelest pirates there was, right?" Achilles asks.

"I know, but there have been Assassins who were pirates. That doesn't mean anything."

"Funny you should say that," Father says.

"Why's that?"

"You know how I was saying your grandfather knew Kidd and Thatch? Well, it's because he was a pirate as well."

"My grandfather?"

"Yes. And eventually, an Assassin."

"Wait… so how did…"

"What, how did I become a Templar?"

"Yes."

"Well, simple, really. I told you my father died when I was young, right?"

"You did."

"Well, I was taken in by a man named Reginald Birch."

"I'm familiar with him. He was the Grand Master in England until his death."

"Yes. So I'm sure you can figure out how that played out."

"Explains why you're Grand Master here. I'm assuming he sent you here to begin the colonial rite?"

"Yes and no. I was sent here originally to search for precursor sites. I believe I told you that's how I met your mother."

"Oh, right. That's also what Charles was doing when he decided to attack a four-year-old boy. I remember." Father shifts uncomfortably. Okay, that wasn't the best thing to say.

"So, you two are leaving in the morning, right? Are you sure you want to travel in the snow?" Achilles says.

"It won't snow," Father insists.

"Right, keep thinking that," I say. "But we will be fine, I will see to it we are both warm enough."

"Just be careful."

"I will, but it shouldn't be a long trip."

"I know, I just don't want you to die of frostbite."

"Please, I grew up living in this weather outside. I can handle it, old man."

"You'd better."

I smile. Achilles isn't verbal when it comes to affection, but the way he worries about my well-being I know he cares. I can't help but feel so lucky. Achilles has always been a father figure in my life, and now I get to be close to my _actual_ father. These two people mean so much to me.

After we finish the meal, Father announces that he's going to leave. I walk with him to the front door. He stops by the door and faces me.

"Thank you, son. Dinner was delicious," he says.

"Thanks, I'm glad you liked it," I reply.

"I suppose I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah." I hesitate, then hug him. He returns the embrace.

"What's this for?"

"I was just sitting at the table thinking about how lucky I am to have you in my life. You're so important to me and I appreciate you. I'm glad things turned out this way." He holds me tighter.

"I love you, son."

"I love you too. I don't know what I would have done if I lost you."

"I know, Connor." We hold each other tight for several moments. Finally, I release him.

"You should get some rest. We have a long journey ahead."

"Okay. Goodnight son."

"Goodnight." He exits.

I look forward to seeing what life has in store now. Once we get to Boston, everything is going to be so different. But it'll be a good change. Merging our orders will make such a positive impact on this land. And it will be so fulfilling to watch our partnership grow and flourish. Most of all, though, I look forward to building a normal relationship with Father. Yes, things are definitely going right for once.

I turn around, a grin still on my face. I see Achilles standing down the hall looking at me. I raise my eyebrows at him.

"What?" I ask.

"Nothing, boy. I just didn't think you knew how to smile," he replies. My grin only grows.

"I suppose with things finally going right, I now have a reason to." He rolls his eyes.

"That was so cheesy. Go clean up dinner." I chuckle.

"Sir, yes sir."


End file.
